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Robert Frost Short Poems

Famous Short Robert Frost Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Robert Frost. A collection of the all-time best Robert Frost short poems


by Robert Frost
 In going from room to room in the dark,
I reached out blindly to save my face,
But neglected, however lightly, to lace
My fingers and close my arms in an arc.
A slim door got in past my guard, And hit me a blow in the head so hard I had my native simile jarred.
So people and things don't pair any more With what they used to pair with before.



by Robert Frost
 Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

by Robert Frost
 The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean--
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.

by Robert Frost
 But outer Space,
At least this far,
For all the fuss
Of the populace
Stays more popular
Than populous

by Robert Frost
 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 hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit.

by Robert Frost
 It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.
But these are flowers that fly and all but sing: And now from having ridden out desire They lie closed over in the wind and cling Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.

by Robert Frost
 A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.



by Robert Frost
 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.

by Robert Frost
 Inscription for a Garden Wall

Winds blow the open grassy places bleak;
But where this old wall burns a sunny cheek,
They eddy over it too toppling weak
To blow the earth or anything self-clear;
Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.

by Robert Frost
 Dust always blowing about the town,
Except when sea-fog laid it down,
And I was one of the children told
Some of the blowing dust was gold.
All the dust the wind blew high Appeared like god in the sunset sky, But I was one of the children told Some of the dust was really gold.
Such was life in the Golden Gate: Gold dusted all we drank and ate, And I was one of the children told, 'We all must eat our peck of gold.
'

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.

by Robert Frost
 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 were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

by Robert Frost
 If, as they say, some dust thrown in my eyes
Will keep my talk from getting overwise,
I'm not the one for putting off the proof.
Let it be overwhelming, off a roof And round a corner, blizzard snow for dust, And blind me to a standstill if it must.

by Robert Frost
 The old dog barks backwards without getting up.
I can remember when he was a pup.

by Robert Frost
 I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong In wanting to silence any song.

by Robert Frost
 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 never once drops On his forefeet to rest.
I'm a poor underdog, But to-night I will bark With the great Overdog That romps through the dark.

by Robert Frost
 There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if Small print overspread it, The news of a day I've forgotten-- If I ever read it.

by Robert Frost
 There sandy seems the golden sky
And golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye Unless in the horizon rim, Some halfway up the limestone wall, That spot of black is not a stain Or shadow, but a cavern hole, Where someone used to climb and crawl To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul The disappearing last of him And of his race starvation slim, Oh years ago -- ten thousand years.

by Robert Frost
 I LEFT you in the morning,
And in the morning glow,
You walked a way beside me
To make me sad to go.
Do you know me in the gloaming, Gaunt and dusty gray with roaming? Are you dumb because you know me not, Or dumb because you know? All for me And not a question For the faded flowers gay That could take me from beside you For the ages of a day? They are yours, and be the measure Of their worth for you to treasure, The measure of the little while That I've been long away.

by Robert Frost
 Why make so much of fragmentary blue
In here and there a bird, or butterfly,
Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,
When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?

Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)--
Though some savants make earth include the sky;
And blue so far above us comes so high,
It only gives our wish for blue a whet.

by Robert Frost
 We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated hear
Till someone really find us out.
'Tis pity if the case require (Or so we say) that in the end We speak the literal to inspire The understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play At hid-and-seek to God afar, So all who hide too well away Must speak and tell us where they are.

by Robert Frost
 No ship of all that under sail or steam
Have gathered people to us more and more
But Pilgrim-manned the Mayflower in a dream
Has been her anxious convoy in to shore.

Stars  Create an image from this poem
by Robert Frost
 How countlessly they congregate
O'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!--

As if with keeness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,--

And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those starts like somw snow-white
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.

by Robert Frost
 The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose, And the pear is, and so's The plum, I suppose.
The dear only know What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose-- But were always a rose.

by Robert Frost
 Sea waves are green and wet,
But up from where they die,
Rise others vaster yet,
And those are brown and dry.
They are the sea made land To come at the fisher town, And bury in solid sand The men she could not drown.
She may know cove and cape, But she does not know mankind If by any change of shape, She hopes to cut off mind.
Men left her a ship to sink: They can leave her a hut as well; And be but more free to think For the one more cast-off shell.


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