Poems – Robert Frost

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Who is Robert Frost

Robert Frost, a renowned American poet, is celebrated for his profound impact on literature and his distinctive poetic style. Born in San Francisco in 1874, Frost’s work often explores complex themes of nature, rural life, and human experiences. His poetry is characterized by its deep emotional resonance, vivid imagery, and thoughtful reflections on the human condition. Throughout his career, Frost earned numerous accolades and gained a reputation as one of the greatest poets of the 20th century.

Frost’s famous poems, such as “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” continue to captivate readers with their timeless wisdom and lyrical beauty. Through his evocative verse, Frost has left an enduring legacy as one of the most revered poets in American literary history.

His writing style, which often incorporates natural imagery and themes of isolation and self-discovery, has resonated with readers around the world. Frost’s poems have been widely studied and analyzed, and his impact on American literature continues to be felt today. Beyond his literary achievements, Frost also had a fascinating personal life, marked by tragedy and hardship, which undoubtedly influenced his art.

Poems

The Road Not taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, 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 was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In 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 sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

— Robert Frost

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Gathering Leaves

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.

But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.

I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use,
But a crop is a crop,
And who’s to say where
The harvest shall stop?

— Robert Frost

Video

Worksheet