Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Acceptance
When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloudAnd goes down burning into the gulf below,No voice in nature is heard to cry aloudAt what has happened...
© Robert Frost
The Hill Wife
It was too lonely for her there,And too wild,And since there were but two of them,And no child. And work was little in the house,She was free,And..
© Robert Frost
Iris By Night
One misty evening, one another's guide, We two were groping down a Malvern side The last wet fields and dripping hedges home. There came a moment of..
© Robert Frost
What Fifty Said..
When I was young my teachers were the old.I gave up fire for form till I was cold.I suffered like a metal being cast.I went to school to age to learn..
© Robert Frost
The Axe-Helve
I've known ere now an interfering branch Of alder catch my lifted axe behind me. But that was in the woods, to hold my hand From striking at another..
© Robert Frost
Blue-Butterfly Day
It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurryThere is more unmixed color on the wingThan flowers will..
© Robert Frost
The Fear
A lantern light from deeper in the barnShone on a man and woman in the doorAnd threw their lurching shadows on a houseNear by, all dark in every..
© Robert Frost
The Objection To Being Stepped On
At the end of the row I stepped on the toe Of an unemployed hoe. It rose in offense And struck me a blow In the seat of my sense. It wasn't to blame..
© Robert Frost
Waiting - Afield At Dusk
What things for dream there are when spectre-like, Moving among tall haycocks lightly piled, I enter alone upon the stubble field, From which the..
© Robert Frost
The Black Cottage
We chanced in passing by that afternoonTo catch it in a sort of special pictureAmong tar-banded ancient cherry trees,Set well back from the road in..
© Robert Frost
The Oft-Repeated Dream
She had no saying dark enoughFor the dark pine that keptForever trying the window latchOf the room where they slept.The tireless but ineffectual..
© Robert Frost
A Girl's Garden
A neighbor of mine in the village Likes to tell how one springWhen she was a girl on the farm, she did A childlike thing.One day she asked her..
© Robert Frost
The Impulse
It was too lonely for her there,And too wild,And since there were but two of them,And no child,And work was little in the house,She was free,And..
© Robert Frost
Unharvested
A scent of ripeness from over a wall. And come to leave the routine roadAnd look for what had made me stall, There sure enough was an apple treeThat..
© Robert Frost
Plowmen
A plow, they say, to plow the snow.They cannot mean to plant it, no --Unless in bitterness to mockAt having cultivated rock.
© Robert Frost
Range-Finding
The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strungAnd cut a flower beside a ground bird's nestBefore it stained a single human breast.The stricken flower bent..
© Robert Frost
The Mountain
The mountain held the town as in a shadowI saw so much before I slept there once:I noticed that I missed stars in the west,Where its black body cut..
© Robert Frost
Putting In The Seed
You come to fetch me from my work to-nightWhen supper's on the table, and we'll seeIf I can leave off burying the whiteSoft petals fallen from the..
© Robert Frost
Pan With Us
PAN came out of the woods one day,—His skin and his hair and his eyes were gray,The gray of the moss of walls were they,—And stood in the sun and..
© Robert Frost
The Need Of Being Versed In Country Things
The house had gone to bring again To the midnight sky a sunset glow. Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,Like a pistil after the petals..
© Robert Frost
A Star In A Stoneboat
For Lincoln MacVeaghNever tell me that not one star of allThat slip from heaven at night and softly fallHas been picked up with stones to build a..
© Robert Frost
The Line-Gang
Here come the line-gang pioneering by,They throw a forest down less cut than broken.They plant dead trees for living, and the deadThey string..
© Robert Frost
The Demiurge's Laugh
It was far in the sameness of the wood; I was running with joy on the Demon’s trail, Though I knew what I hunted was no true god. It was just as the..
© Robert Frost
The Gum-Gatherer
There overtook me and drew me inTo his down-hill, early-morning stride,And set me five miles on my roadBetter than if he had had me ride,A man with a..
© Robert Frost
In White
A dented spider like a snow drop whiteOn a white Heal-all, holding up a mothLike a white piece of lifeless satin cloth -Saw ever curious eye so..
© Robert Frost