Содержание
Роберт Фрост является одним из самых влиятельных и известных поэтов всех времен. Его книги были проданы миллионами экземпляров. Его стихи, с другой стороны, до сих пор изучаются благодаря их вневременным посланиям. Он также получил множество наград, но Дорога Менее пройденная является одним из его самых известных творений на сегодняшний день.
Кто такой Роберт Фрост?
Роберт Фрост начал свою жизнь как многие художники. Он знал, что в глубине души он был поэтом, но все заставляли его делать что-то более практичное. Его отец умер, когда ему было всего 11 лет, оставив семью без гроша. Несмотря на трудности, Фрост преуспел в учебе Дартмутский университетдаже если только на два месяца.
Фрост продал свое первое стихотворение после окончания колледжа. Этот небольшой успех побудил его продолжать писать стихи. Затем он решил принять участие Гарвардский университет, но также быстро ушел из-за болезни.
Возможно, чтобы уйти от Первая Мировая ВойнаМороз занялся сельским хозяйством. Но это оказалось неудачным предприятием, поэтому он вернулся после нескольких лет относительной изоляции. В течение этого времени, Роберт Фрост часто читал лекции в Мидлбери колледж, Позже он женился Элинор Уайт, У него было шестеро детей, четверо из которых умерли в молодом возрасте. Кроме того, его жена также скончалась из-за сердечной недостаточности.
Роберт Фрост имел уникальный, отличный стиль в своих работах. Было много споров о том, является ли он модернистом или поэтом другого типа. Кроме того, почти все признают силу и великолепие поэзии Роберта Фроста.
Не забудьте также прочитать эти мотивационные цитаты Мэри Оливер о жизни, любви и стремлении к счастью.
Вдохновляющие цитаты Роберта Фроста
1. «Никогда не запугивай в тишине. Никогда не позволяйте себе стать жертвой. Не принимайте никого определения вашей жизни; определить себя «. — Роберт Фрост
2. «Любовь — это непреодолимое желание быть неотразимо желанным». Роберт Фрост
Посмотрите другие цитаты о любви, которые помогут вам найти идеальные слова для этого человека в вашей жизни.
3. «Образование — это способность слушать почти все, не теряя самообладания или уверенности в себе». Роберт Фрост
4. «Если бы мы не могли смеяться, мы бы сошли с ума». Роберт Фрост
5. «Лучший выход всегда через». — Роберт Фрост
6. «Поэзия — это то, что теряется в переводе». Роберт Фрост
7. «Половина мира состоит из людей, которым есть, что сказать, а что нет», а другая половина, которым нечего сказать, и продолжает это говорить ». Роберт Фрост
8. «Стихотворение начинается как комок в горле, чувство неправильности, тоска по дому, тоска по любви». Роберт Фрост
9. «Счастье восполняет высоту того, чего ему не хватает в длине». — Роберт Фрост
10. «Я не учитель, но пробуждающий». Роберт Фрост
11. «Дом — это место, куда, когда тебе нужно идти туда, они должны взять тебя». Роберт Фрост
12. «Я не растерялся. Я просто хорошо перемешан. Роберт Фрост
13. «Никогда не ставь забор, пока не узнаешь, почему он был установлен». Роберт Фрост
14. «Дипломат — это мужчина, который всегда помнит день рождения женщины, но никогда не помнит ее возраст». — Роберт Фрост
15. «Быть поэтом — это условие, а не профессия». — Роберт Фрост
Какие еще цитаты Роберта Фроста вы бы добавили в список?
Стихи Роберта Фроста часто мрачны и мрачны — что неудивительно, учитывая трагедии его личной жизни. Он жил тяжелой жизнью. Он страдал от депрессии так же, как его родители до него и дети после него. Как и многие художники, он был обеспокоен, и это проявилось в его работах.
Однако каждый может найти мудрость и узнать о жизни через свои цитаты. Его поэзия может быть мрачной, но она блестящая и должна быть прочитана всеми, кто интересуется искусством.
Его стихи анализируют такие вещи, как природа существования, эмоции и поиск смысла в жизни. Они действительно мощные. В результате, некоторые люди используют цитаты Роберта Фроста каждый день как утверждения.
Чтение и реализация уроков в его стихах может изменить вашу жизнь. По крайней мере, вы будете тронуты его невероятным письмом и блестящей философией относительно состояния человека.
The Road Not Taken — Robert Frost
«The Road Not Taken» is one of Robert Frost’s most recognizable works, first published in 1916 in the «Mountain Interval» collection. The poem is a narrative of a moment when the speaker reaches a fork in the road and must decide which path to follow.
Reflecting on this piece, I am captivated by its metaphorical depth. It symbolizes life’s choices and the impact of those choices on our journey. The poem strikes a chord with many readers due to its relatability — we’ve all faced crossroads and pondered on the road less chosen.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.
«The Road Not Taken» holds a spot on our Top 10 Poems of All Time list — you can explore the other 9 remarkable pieces via the link.
Fire and Ice — Robert Frost
«Fire and Ice,» first appearing in 1920 in Frost’s collection «New Hampshire,» is a short but powerful poem examining the end of the world. With its iconic opening lines, Frost juxtaposes the destructive qualities of fire (desire) and ice (hate).
In my view, the brilliance of this poem lies in its brevity and the depth of its message. Frost contrasts two opposing forces, passion, and indifference, offering a stark perspective on how human emotions could lead to our downfall. Its thematic significance resonates with readers universally.
Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.From what I’ve tasted of desireI hold with those who favor fire.But if it had to perish twice,I think I know enough of hateTo say that for destruction iceIs also greatAnd would suffice.
Больше цитат Роберта Фроста, чтобы поднять ваше мышление Какие еще цитаты Роберта Фроста вы бы добавили в список?
Стихи Роберта Фроста часто мрачны и мрачны — что неудивительно, учитывая трагедии его личной жизни. Он жил тяжелой жизнью. Он страдал от депрессии так же, как его родители до него и дети после него. Как и многие художники, он был обеспокоен, и это проявилось в его работах.
Однако каждый может найти мудрость и узнать о жизни через свои цитаты. Его поэзия может быть мрачной, но она блестящая и должна быть прочитана всеми, кто интересуется искусством.
Его стихи анализируют такие вещи, как природа существования, эмоции и поиск смысла в жизни. Они действительно мощные. В результате, некоторые люди используют цитаты Роберта Фроста каждый день как утверждения.
Чтение и реализация уроков в его стихах может изменить вашу жизнь. По крайней мере, вы будете тронуты его невероятным письмом и блестящей философией относительно состояния человека.
The Oven Bird — Robert Frost
«The Oven Bird» was first published in Frost’s 1916 collection «Mountain Interval.» This sonnet-style poem focuses on a mid-summer songbird whose call prompts the speaker to contemplate the passage of time and the relentless approach of winter.
I find this poem intriguing due to its allegorical layers. The oven bird’s song, marking the transition from spring to autumn, serves as a poignant reminder of life’s transience. This powerful undercurrent of inevitable change resonates with readers, providing them with an enduring connection to the poem.
There is a singer everyone has heard,Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.He says that leaves are old and that for flowersMid-summer is to spring as one to ten.He says the early petal-fall is pastWhen pear and cherry bloom went down in showersOn sunny days a moment overcast;And comes that other fall we name the fall.He says the highway dust is over all.The bird would cease and be as other birdsBut that he knows in singing not to sing.The question that he frames in all but wordsIs what to make of a diminished thing.
Acquainted with the Night — Robert Frost
«Acquainted with the Night» was published in 1928 in Frost’s collection «West-Running Brook.» This sonnet presents the solitary walk of an individual in the city at night, using the metaphor of darkness to explore themes of isolation and despair.
I find the imagery in this poem to be incredibly evocative. The narrator’s nocturnal journey through the silent streets is a striking metaphor for personal alienation and loneliness. The universal human experience of solitude conveyed through Frost’s masterful use of language is what often resonates with readers.
Please note that the following poem is still under copyright protection. Therefore, we can only provide a brief excerpt for illustrative purposes.
I have been one acquainted with the night.I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.I have passed by the watchman on his beatAnd dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
Design — Robert Frost
«Design» appeared in print in 1922 and was later published in 1936 in the «A Further Range» collection. It is a sonnet contemplating the presence or absence of design in the universe, represented by a white spider on a white flower holding a white moth.
I appreciate this poem’s thought-provoking exploration of the natural world and its potential implications for the universe’s design or randomness. Frost’s vivid and contrasting imagery makes the poem striking and memorable, attracting readers who appreciate its metaphysical musings.
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,On a white heal-all, holding up a mothLike a white piece of rigid satin cloth—Assorted characters of death and blightMixed ready to begin the morning right,Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth—A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?What brought the kindred spider to that height,Then steered the white moth thither in the night?What but design of darkness to appall?—If design govern in a thing so small.
Биография
Роберт Фрост (англ. Robert Frost, 26 марта 1874, Сан-Франциско — 29 января 1963, Бостон) — один из крупнейших поэтов в истории США, четырежды лауреат Пулитцеровской премии (1924, 1931, 1937, 1943).
Свое имя получил в честь Роберта Ли, главнокомандующего армией Конфедерации во время Гражданской войны. Отец умер от туберкулеза, когда Фросту было 11 лет. Получил воспитание в доме деда и в Дартмутском колледже. В 1895 г. женился на однокласснице Элинор Уайт, годом раньше напечатал первую подборку стихов. Некоторое время работал школьным учителем и фермером. В 1897-99 гг. посещал Гарвардский университет. Из шестерых детей Роберта и Элинор двое умерли в младенчестве. Многочисленные потери, с которыми ему пришлось столкнуться в молодости, предопределили стоический пессимизм фростовского мироощущения.
Первое десятилетие XX века семья Фроста провела в весьма стесненных материальных обстоятельствах на ферме в Нью-Хэмпшире.
В США его стихи не находили издателя, поэтому на пороге сорокалетия Фрост принял непростое решение — продать ферму и начать литературную карьеру заново в Лондоне, куда он отбыл в августе 1912 г. Там при содействии Эзры Паунда ему удалось опубликовать (в 1913 г.) свой первый стихотворный сборник «A Boy’s Will», в котором ощущается влияние Вордсворта и Роберта Браунинга.
Внешней канвой стихов Фроста на протяжении всего его творческого пути оставались сельские реалии Новой Англии. Поэт рисует жителей сельской местности за повседневными занятиями, которые в его трактовке приобретают глубокую философскую подоплеку («Mowing»). Его излюбленный лирический герой — фермер из Нью-Хэмпшира. Все эти черты в полной мере проявились во втором сборнике «North of Boston» (1914), многие стихотворения из которого стали хрестоматийными и подлежат обязательному изучению в американских школах (напр., «Mending Wall»).
После начала Первой мировой войны Фрост вернулся в Нью-Хэмпшир, где приобрел новую ферму, которая, впрочем, не приносила ему прибыли. Его слава на родине постепенно росла, и в 1923 г. его четвертая книга «New Hampshire» (Нью-Гемпшир) была удостоена Пулитцеровской премии. В нее входят пространные сюжетные стихотворения Жены Пола, Ведьмы из Кооса и более лапидарная и изящная медитативная лирика. Направленность на философичность и утончённый психологизм отличают «Местами голубое», «Огонь и лед», «Все золотое зыбко». В стихах тех лет косвенно отразилось изучение Фростом древнегреческих трагиков, особенно Еврипида. Остаток своей жизни национальный поэт США провел, проживая в кампусах различных университетов Новой Англии, зачастую в качестве приглашенного лектора.
Роберт Фрост
В зрелые годы Фрост часто обращается к форме сонета, на первый план выступают мотивы безысходного одиночества и отчужденности («Acquainted with the Night»). Стихи позднего Фроста насыщены метафизическим подтекстом («Directive») и прямыми библейскими аллюзиями («Never Again Would Birds’ Song Be The Same»). Последний сборник стихов поэта — «In the Clearing» — появился в 1962 г. В том же году Фрост посетил СССР, где состоялась его встреча с Анной Ахматовой, она прочла ему свое новое стихотворение «Последняя роза» с эпиграфом из И. Бродского.
Фрост неоднократно выступал на инаугурациях президентов США (последний раз — при вступлении в должность Джона Кеннеди, 1961).
Особенностью поэтической манеры Фроста является то, что эпизоды повседневной человеческой деятельности неизменно получают у него многослойное философско-метафизическое осмысление («After Apple-Picking», «Birches»). Продолжая браунинговскую традицию драматического монолога, Фрост вводит в оборот стихотворные диалоги, наполненные разговорными интонациями и тонким психологизмом («The Black Cottage», «Home Burial» — предмет эссе Бродского).
Основная часть стихотворного наследия поэта обыгрывает тему отношений человека с вечной природой, которая предстает у Фроста принципиально непостижимой и чуждой человеку, а нередко таит в себе имманентную угрозу («Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening» — самое хрестоматийное стихотворение американской поэзии XX в.) Результаты человеческой деятельности теряются в беспредельности и бессмысленности окружающего мира («The Wood-Pile», «The Most of It»).
Среди почитателей его таланта — Владимир Набоков, Хорхе Луис Борхес, Иосиф Бродский. Последний в своей нобелевской лекции назвал Фроста одним из пяти поэтов, наиболее повлиявших на его творчество.
Mending Wall — Robert Frost
«Mending Wall» was first published in 1914 in Frost’s second poetry collection, «North of Boston.» It details a story of two neighbors who meet to repair a stone wall that separates their properties, a task that prompts a discussion about the necessity of boundaries.
I appreciate this poem for its nuanced take on the human need for boundaries and separation. The repetition of «Good fences make good neighbors» adds weight to the dilemma presented. The poem invites readers to contemplate the true purpose of walls in society — do they bring us together or push us apart?
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,And spills the upper boulders in the sun;And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.The work of hunters is another thing:I have come after them and made repairWhere they have left not one stone on a stone,But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,No one has seen them made or heard them made,But at spring mending-time we find them there.I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;And on a day we meet to walk the lineAnd set the wall between us once again.We keep the wall between us as we go.To each the boulders that have fallen to each.And some are loaves and some so nearly ballsWe have to use a spell to make them balance:’Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’We wear our fingers rough with handling them.Oh, just another kind of out-door game,One on a side. It comes to little more:There where it is we do not need the wall:He is all pine and I am apple orchard.My apple trees will never get acrossAnd eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonderIf I could put a notion in his head:’Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t itWhere there are cows? But here there are no cows.Before I built a wall I’d ask to knowWhat I was walling in or walling out,And to whom I was like to give offense.Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d ratherHe said it for himself. I see him thereBringing a stone grasped firmly by the topIn each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.He moves in darkness as it seems to me,Not of woods only and the shade of trees.He will not go behind his father’s saying,And he likes having thought of it so wellHe says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Christmas Trees — Robert Frost
«Christmas Trees» was first published in 1916. In this charming narrative poem, Frost recounts a story of a city man trying to buy the speaker’s Christmas trees for an exorbitant price, leading to reflections on nature’s intrinsic value.
I find this poem’s exploration of the conflict between commercialism and the inherent value of nature quite thought-provoking. The balance of humor and deeper reflection is typical of Frost’s work and is one of the reasons readers are drawn to this piece.
The city had withdrawn into itselfAnd left at last the country to the country;When between whirls of snow not come to lieAnd whirls of foliage not yet laid, there droveA stranger to our yard, who looked the city,Yet did in country fashion in that thereHe sat and waited till he drew us outA-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.He proved to be the city come againTo look for something it had left behindAnd could not do without and keep its Christmas.He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;My woods—the young fir balsams like a placeWhere houses all are churches and have spires.I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.I doubt if I was tempted for a momentTo sell them off their feet to go in carsAnd leave the slope behind the house all bare,Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.I’d hate to have them know it if I was.Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees exceptAs others hold theirs or refuse for them,Beyond the time of profitable growth,The trial by market everything must come to.I dallied so much with the thought of selling.Then whether from mistaken courtesyAnd fear of seeming short of speech, or whetherFrom hope of hearing good of what was mine, I said,»There aren’t enough to be worth while.»»I could soon tell how many they would cut,You let me look them over.»
«You could look.But don’t expect I’m going to let you have them.»Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too closeThat lop each other of boughs, but not a fewQuite solitary and having equal boughsAll round and round. The latter he nodded «Yes» to,Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,With a buyer’s moderation, «That would do.»I thought so too, but wasn’t there to say so.We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,And came down on the north. He said, «A thousand.»
«A thousand Christmas trees!—at what apiece?»
He felt some need of softening that to me:»A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.»
Then I was certain I had never meantTo let him have them. Never show surprise!But thirty dollars seemed so small besideThe extent of pasture I should strip, three cents(For that was all they figured out apiece),Three cents so small beside the dollar friendsI should be writing to within the hourWould pay in cities for good trees like those,Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday SchoolsCould hang enough on to pick off enough.A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!Worth three cents more to give away than sell,As may be shown by a simple calculation.Too bad I couldn’t lay one in a letter.I can’t help wishing I could send you one,In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.
Nothing Gold Can Say — Robert Frost
«Nothing Gold Can Stay» first appeared in Frost’s 1923 collection, «New Hampshire.» The brief, eight-line poem explores the fleeting nature of beauty and innocence, symbolized by the gold of dawn and the fresh green leaves of spring.
In my interpretation, the power of this poem lies in its brevity and the profound truth it encapsulates. It speaks to the transient nature of all beautiful things, a universal truth that touches all readers. Frost’s ability to convey such profound sentiment in just a few lines is a testament to his mastery.
Nature’s first green is gold,Her hardest hue to hold.Her early leaf’s a flower;But only so an hour.Then leaf subsides to leaf.So Eden sank to grief,So dawn goes down to day.Nothing gold can stay.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening — Robert Frost
First published in 1923 in his collection «New Hampshire,» «Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening» is a serene depiction of a man pausing by the woods on a winter evening, entranced by the snowy spectacle.
I find this poem deeply enchanting. Its simplicity, coupled with its rhythmic, almost lullaby-like quality, brings forth a sense of tranquility. It’s a poetic reflection on the beauty of nature, the allure of solitude, and the responsibilities that pull us back into life, themes that resonate with many readers.
Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound’s the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.
Directive — Robert Frost
«Directive» first appeared in Frost’s 1947 collection «Steeple Bush». It’s a haunting poem that takes the reader on a journey through a post-apocalyptic landscape, leading to a ruined farmhouse with a ‘children’s house of make-believe.’
As I interpret it, this poem’s strength lies in its complex layers of meaning, offering both an emotional journey and a critique of modernity’s effects on nature. Its blend of desolation and subtle hope, and rich, evocative imagery make it captivating to many readers.
Please note that the following poem is still under copyright protection. Therefore, we can only provide a brief excerpt for illustrative purposes.
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 sculpture in the weather,There is a house that is no more a houseUpon a farm that is no more a farmAnd in a town that is no more a town.
Birches — Robert Frost
«Birches» is a work from Frost’s 1916 «Mountain Interval» collection. It describes a rural scene where ice storms have bent birch trees, leading the speaker to reflect on life’s hardships and the desire to escape, if only momentarily.
As I read «Birches,» I’m moved by Frost’s vivid imagery and poignant symbolism. The bent birch trees become a symbol of the hardships we face, and the speaker’s wish to «climb black branches» offers a momentary respite from the world’s troubles. The poem, in its exploration of the tension between fantasy and reality, connects with many readers on a personal level.
When I see birches bend to left and rightAcross the lines of straighter darker trees,I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stayAs ice-storms do. Often you must have seen themLoaded with ice a sunny winter morningAfter a rain. They click upon themselvesAs the breeze rises, and turn many-coloredAs the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shellsShattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—Such heaps of broken glass to sweep awayYou’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,And they seem not to break; though once they are bowedSo low for long, they never right themselves:You may see their trunks arching in the woodsYears afterwards, trailing their leaves on the groundLike girls on hands and knees that throw their hairBefore them over their heads to dry in the sun.But I was going to say when Truth broke inWith all her matter-of-fact about the ice-stormI should prefer to have some boy bend themAs he went out and in to fetch the cows—Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,Whose only play was what he found himself,Summer or winter, and could play alone.One by one he subdued his father’s treesBy riding them down over and over againUntil he took the stiffness out of them,And not one but hung limp, not one was leftFor him to conquer. He learned all there wasTo learn about not launching out too soonAnd so not carrying the tree awayClear to the ground. He always kept his poiseTo the top branches, climbing carefullyWith the same pains you use to fill a cupUp to the brim, and even above the brim.Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.So was I once myself a swinger of birches.And so I dream of going back to be.It’s when I’m weary of considerations,And life is too much like a pathless woodWhere your face burns and tickles with the cobwebsBroken across it, and one eye is weepingFrom a twig’s having lashed across it open.I’d like to get away from earth awhileAnd then come back to it and begin over.May no fate willfully misunderstand meAnd half grant what I wish and snatch me awayNot to return. Earth’s the right place for love:I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,And climb black branches up a snow-white trunkToward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,But dipped its top and set me down again.That would be good both going and coming back.One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
Robert Frost Biography
Robert Frost, born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco, California, was a beloved American poet known for his realistic depictions of rural life and intricate command of American colloquial speech. Frost’s early years were marked by tragedy with his father’s death, after which his family moved to Massachusetts, a region that would feature prominently in his poetry.
Frost’s journey into poetry began in high school and continued during his stint at Dartmouth College and later at Harvard University. However, academia could not hold Frost’s attention for long. He left Harvard to focus on writing and farming—a move that did not bring immediate success but shaped his voice and subject matter, rooting them in the landscapes and life of New England.
Among Frost’s well-known works are «The Road Not Taken,» «Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,» and «Mending Wall.» While seemingly simple, these poems grapple with profound themes of decision-making, solitude, and the human relationship with nature, revealing Frost’s deep exploration of the human condition. His ability to draw universal truths from everyday experiences and his masterful use of traditional verse forms set him apart from his contemporaries.
Frost’s personal life was fraught with hardships and loss. He married Elinor Miriam White, with whom he had six children. However, Frost faced much tragedy, with only two of his children outliving him and his wife passing away in 1938. These personal sorrows infused his poetry with a somber and introspective tone.Throughout his career, Frost received many accolades, including four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry, a feat only a few have achieved. His work, a unique blend of modernist perspective and traditional form, profoundly influenced American literature and continues to resonate with readers today.
Frost’s later years were marked by professional success and personal losses. Despite the sorrows that clouded his personal life, Frost continued to write and give readings across the United States and abroad. He passed away on January 29, 1963, leaving behind a rich literary legacy.
In sum, Robert Frost was a revered poet whose depiction of rural New England and exploration of complex social and philosophical themes secured his place in the pantheon of American literature. Despite enduring numerous personal tragedies, Frost’s poetic voice remained resolute and insightful, and his work continues to inspire and resonate with readers worldwide.
This poet is one of the Best and Most Influential Poets of All Time.
I hope you have enjoyed this selection of the best and most famous poems written by Robert Frost.
Discover more American Transcendentalists and 19th Century American Poets:
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Emily Dickinson
- Walt Whitman
- Edgar Allan Poe
- Oliver Wendell Holmes
- Edgar Albert Guest
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Never Again Would Birds’ Song Be the Same — Robert Frost
«Never Again Would Birds’ Song Be the Same,» published posthumously in 1949, is Frost’s tribute to his wife, Elinor. The poem suggests that her presence has permanently altered the songs of birds in the woods near their home.
I am touched by this poem’s intimate and personal nature. Frost’s tender tribute to his wife, and how he imagines her influence extending to the very songs of the birds lends a poignancy to this piece that readers find deeply moving.
Please note that the following poem is still under copyright protection. Therefore, we can only provide a brief excerpt for illustrative purposes.
He would declare and could himself believeThat the birds there in all the garden roundFrom having heard the daylong voice of EveHad added to their own an oversound,Her tone of meaning but without the words.
Putting in the Seed — Robert Frost
«Putting in the Seed» is from Robert Frost’s «Mountain Interval» collection published in 1916. The poem’s rural setting, a common motif in Frost’s works, serves as the backdrop for the speaker’s observations about planting seeds, with deeper metaphorical implications about life and creation.
I believe this poem’s beauty comes from Frost’s ability to weave everyday farming tasks into a meditation on patience, labor, and the cycles of life. It is this intertwining of the mundane with the profound, presented through Frost’s accessible language and vivid imagery, that draws readers to this piece.
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 apple tree.(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;)And go along with you ere you lose sightOf what you came for and become like me,Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.How Love burns through the Putting in the SeedOn through the watching for that early birthWhen, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,The sturdy seedling with arched body comesShouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.