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").
Sitting by a Bush in Broad Sunlight
When I spread out my hand here today,I catch no more than a rayTo feel of between thumb and fingers;No lasting effect of it lingers.There was one..
© Robert Frost
Snow
The three stood listening to a fresh accessOf wind that caught against the house a moment,Gulped snow, and then blew free again-the ColesDressed, but..
© Robert Frost
In The Home Stretch
SHE stood against the kitchen sink, and lookedOver the sink out through a dusty windowAt weeds the water from the sink made tall.She wore her cape;..
© Robert Frost
Locked Out
As told to a childWhen we locked up the house at night,We always locked the flowers outsideAnd cut them off from window light.The time I dreamed the..
© Robert Frost
A Fountain, a Bottle, a Donkey's Ears, and Some Books
Old Davis owned a solid mica mountainIn Dalton that would someday make his fortune.There'd been some Boston people out to see it:And experts said..
© Robert Frost
Misgiving
All crying, 'We will go with you, O Wind!'The foliage follow him, leaf and stem;But a sleep oppresses them as they go,And they end by bidding them as..
© Robert Frost
Directive
Back out of all this now too much for us,Back in a time made simple by the lossOf detail, burned, dissolved, and broken offLike graveyard marble..
© Robert Frost
The Flood
Blood has been harder to dam back than water.Just when we think we have it impounded safeBehind new barrier walls (and let it chafe!),It breaks away..
© Robert Frost
Sand Dunes
Sea waves are green and wet,But up from where they die,Rise others vaster yet,And those are brown and dry.They are the sea made landTo come at the..
© Robert Frost
Pea Brush
I WALKED down alone Sunday after churchTo the place where John has been cutting treesTo see for myself about the birchHe said I could have to bush my..
© Robert Frost
Good Hours
I had for my winter evening walk- No one at all with whom to talk,But I had the cottages in a rowUp to their shining eyes in snow.And I thought I had..
© Robert Frost
Place For A Third
Nothing to say to all those marriages! She had made three herself to three of his. The score was even for them, three to three. But come to die she..
© Robert Frost
The Most Of It
He thought he kept the universe alone;For all the voice in answer he could wakeWas but the mocking echo of his ownFrom some tree-hidden cliff across..
© Robert Frost
The Times Table
More than halfway up the passWas a spring with a broken drinking glass,And whether the farmer drank or notHis mare was sure to observe the spotBy..
© Robert Frost
The Last Mowing
There's a place called Far-away MeadowWe never shall mow in again,Or such is the talk at the farmhouse:The meadow is finished with men.Then now is..
© Robert Frost
Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter
The west was getting out of gold,The breath of air had died of cold,When shoeing home across the white,I thought I saw a bird alight.In summer when I..
© Robert Frost
The Birthplace
Here further up the mountain slopeThan there was every any hope,My father built, enclosed a spring,Strung chains of wall round everything,Subdued the..
© Robert Frost
Paul's Wife
To drive Paul out of any lumber campAll that was needed was to say to him,'How is the wife, Paul?'- and he'd disappear.Some said it was because be..
© Robert Frost
Sand Dunes
Sea waves are green and wet,But up from where they die,Rise others vaster yet,And those are brown and dry.They are the sea made landTo come at the..
© Robert Frost
Pea Brush
I WALKED down alone Sunday after churchTo the place where John has been cutting treesTo see for myself about the birchHe said I could have to bush my..
© Robert Frost
Good Hours
I had for my winter evening walk- No one at all with whom to talk,But I had the cottages in a rowUp to their shining eyes in snow.And I thought I had..
© Robert Frost
Place For A Third
Nothing to say to all those marriages! She had made three herself to three of his. The score was even for them, three to three. But come to die she..
© Robert Frost
The Most Of It
He thought he kept the universe alone;For all the voice in answer he could wakeWas but the mocking echo of his ownFrom some tree-hidden cliff across..
© Robert Frost
The Times Table
More than halfway up the passWas a spring with a broken drinking glass,And whether the farmer drank or notHis mare was sure to observe the spotBy..
© Robert Frost
The Last Mowing
There's a place called Far-away MeadowWe never shall mow in again,Or such is the talk at the farmhouse:The meadow is finished with men.Then now is..
© Robert Frost