Or the Willy-Nilly Slide By Robert Frost (1916) Brown lived at such a lofty farm That everyone for miles could see His lantern when he did his chores In winter after half-past three. And many must have seen him make His wild descent from there one night, ’Cross lots, ’cross walls, ’cross everything, Describing rings of lantern light. Between the[Read More…]
By Robert Frost The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.
[Editor Note: This time of the year, we like to re-publish this verse from Frost’s Two Tramps In Mud Time. We also note that we’ve published a number of Frost’s poems in our Snow In Literature this publishing year. Unintended. But his words reflect the world of people who know winter and all it brings. You can listen to Frost[Read More…]
By Robert Frost Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,I paused and said, ‘I will turn back from here.No, I will go on farther—and we shall see.’The hard snow held me, save where now and thenOne foot went through. The view was all in linesStraight up and down of tall slim treesToo much alike to mark or name[Read More…]
By Robert Frost 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[Read More…]
By Robert Frost All out of doors looked darkly in at himThrough the thin frost, almost in separate stars,That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.What kept his eyes from giving back the gazeWas the lamp tilted near them in his hand.What kept him from remembering what it wasThat brought him to that creaking room was age.He stood with barrels[Read More…]
November Is A Forerunner. My November Guest By Robert Frost (1913) My sorrow, when she’s here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree; She walks the sodden pasture lane. Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list: She’s[Read More…]
A final ski tour at Appleton Farms reveals winter letting go. It is that special interim period here in New England between the end of winter and the start of spring. Last week, we headed out across the corn snow at Appleton Farms in Ipswich, MA., in the bright, and, yes, warm sunlight. We recalled the first time we skied[Read More…]
The Road Not Taken By Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it[Read More…]
