What do the thrushes sing? Ah Holy, Holy or Crack! Join us as we learn Charlotte Mew’s poem “I so liked Spring” By Heart.
Search Results for: robert frost
“Good Hours” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems Good Hours I had for my winter evening walk— No one at all with whom to talk, But I had the cottages in a row Up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within: I had the sound of a violin; I had […]
“The Wood-pile” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Wood-pile Out walking in the frozen swamp one grey 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 then One foot went down. The view was all in […]
“The Self-seeker” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Self-seeker “Willis, I didn’t want you here to-day: The lawyer’s coming for the company. I’m going to sell my soul, or, rather, feet. Five hundred dollars for the pair, you know.” “With you the feet have nearly been the soul; And if you’re going to sell them to […]
“The Fear” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Fear A lantern light from deeper in the barn Shone on a man and woman in the door And threw their lurching shadows on a house Near by, all dark in every glossy window. A horse’s hoof pawed once the hollow floor, And the back of the gig […]
“The Housekeeper” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Housekeeper I let myself in at the kitchen door. “It’s you,” she said. “I can’t get up. Forgive me Not answering your knock. I can no more Let people in than I can keep them out. I’m getting too old for my size, I tell them. My fingers […]
“The Generations of Men” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Generations of Men A governor it was proclaimed this time, When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire Ancestral memories might come together. And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow, A rock-strewn town where farming has fallen off, And sprout-lands flourish where the axe has […]
“The Code” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Code There were three in the meadow by the brook Gathering up windrows, piling cocks of hay, With an eye always lifted toward the west Where an irregular sun-bordered cloud Darkly advanced with a perpetual dagger Flickering across its bosom. Suddenly One helper, thrusting pitchfork in the ground, […]
“After Apple-picking” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems After Apple-picking My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is […]
“A Servant to Servants” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems A Servant to Servants I didn’t make you know how glad I was To have you come and camp here on our land. I promised myself to get down some day And see the way you lived, but I don’t know! With a houseful of hungry men to feed […]
“Blueberries” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems Blueberries “You ought to have seen what I saw on my way To the village, through Mortenson’s pasture to-day: Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum In the cavernous pail of the first one to come! And all ripe […]
“The Black Cottage” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Black Cottage We chanced in passing by that afternoon To catch it in a sort of special picture Among tar-banded ancient cherry trees, Set well back from the road in rank lodged grass, The little cottage we were speaking of, A front with just a door between two […]
“Home Burial” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems Home Burial He saw her from the bottom of the stairs Before she saw him. She was starting down, Looking back over her shoulder at some fear. She took a doubtful step and then undid it To raise herself and look again. He spoke Advancing toward her: “What is […]
“A Hundred Collars” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems A Hundred Collars Lancaster bore him—such a little town, Such a great man. It doesn’t see him often Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead And sends the children down there with their mother To run wild in the summer—a little wild. Sometimes he joins them for […]
“The Mountain” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Mountain The mountain held the town as in a shadow I saw so much before I slept there once: I noticed that I missed stars in the west, Where its black body cut into the sky. Near me it seemed: I felt it like a wall Behind which […]
“The Death of the Hired Man” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Death of the Hired Man Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step, She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage To meet him in the doorway with the news And put him on his guard. “Silas is back.” […]
“The Pasture” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems The Pasture I’m going out to clean the pasture spring; I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calf That’s standing by the mother. It’s so […]
“Reluctance” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems Reluctance Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and descended; I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended. The leaves are all dead on the ground, […]
“My Butterfly” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems My Butterfly Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too, And the daft sun-assaulter, he That frighted thee so oft, is fled or dead: Save only me (Nor is it sad to thee!) Save only me There is none left to mourn thee in the fields. The gray grass is […]
“October” by Robert Frost
< Return to Robert Frost Poems October O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; To-morrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; To-morrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow, Make the […]