Robert Frost›Poezii

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

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

There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I knew not

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

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I\'ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if I had to perish

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies, And here on earth come emulating flies, That though they never equal stars in size, (And they

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

I didn\'t make you know how glad I was To have you come and camp here on our land. promised myself to get down some day And see the way you

The play seems out for an almost infinite run. Don\'t mind a little thing like the actors fighting. The only I worry about is the sun. We\'ll be

When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don\'t stand still and look around On all the hills I haven\'t

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

I Dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar walls, And a cellar in which the daylight

As I came to the edge of the woods, Thrush music -- hark! Now if it was dusk outside, Inside it was dark. Too dark in the woods for a bird

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

A Stranger came to the door at eve, And he spoke the bridegroom fair. He bore a green-white stick in his hand, And, for all burden, care.

One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as \'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled, That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust, But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust. If we

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast In a field I looked into going past, And the ground almost covered smooth in snow, But a few weeds

As I went down the hill along the wall There was a gate I had leaned at for the view And had just turned from when I first saw you As you

All out of doors looked darkly in at him Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. What kept

The great Overdog That heavenly beast With a star in one eye Gives a leap in the east. He dances upright All the way to the west And

The well was dry beside the door, And so we went with pail and can Across the fields behind the house To seek the brook if still it ran; Not

The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The