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Robert Frost

Robert Frost

Atmosphere

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.

#Americans #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1928 #WestRunningBrook

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Other works by Robert Frost...
The Census-Taker

I came an errand one cloud-blowing… To a slab-built, black-paper-cover… Of one room and one window and one… The only dwelling in a waste cut o… A hundred square miles round it in…
Taken Singly: Lost in Heaven

The clouds, the source of rain, on… Offered an opening to the source o… Which I accepted with impatient s… Looking for my old skymarks in the… But stars were scarce in that part…
Sand Dunes

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
Taken Singly: Design

I found a dimpled spider, fat and… On a white heal-all, holding up a… Like a white piece of rigid satin… Assorted characters of death and b… Mixed ready to begin the morning r…
Taken Doubly: A Record Stride

In a Vermont bedroom closet With a door of two broad boards And for back wall a crumbling old… (And that’s what their toes are to… I have a pair of shoes standing,
Over Back: Of The Stones Of The Place

I farm a pasture where the boulder… As touching as a basket full of eg… And though they’re nothing anybody… I wonder if it wouldn’t signify For me to send you one out where y…
Ten Mills: Assertive

Let me be the one To do what is done.
The Pasture

I’m going out to clean the pasture… I’ll only stop to rake the leaves… (And wait to watch the water clear… I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come… I’m going out to fetch the little…
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Taken Singly: Desert Places

Snow falling and night falling fas… In a field I looked into going pa… And the ground almost covered smoo… But a few weeds and stubble showin… The woods around it have it—it is…
 1
The Objection to Being Stepped On

At the end of the row I stepped on the toe Of an unemployed hoe. It rose in offense And struck me a blow
 1
To E. T.

I slumbered with your poems on my… Spread open as I dropped them hal… Like dove wings on a figure on a t… To see, if in a dream they brought… I might not have the chance I mis…
The Cow in Apple

Something inspires the only cow of… To make no more of a wall than an… And think no more of wall-builders… Her face is flecked with pomace an… A cider syrup. Having tasted frui…
Misgiving

All crying, ‘We will go with you,… The foliage follow him, leaf and s… But a sleep oppresses them as they… And they end by bidding them as th… And they end by bidding him stay w…
A Patch of Old Snow

There’s a patch of old snow in a c… That I should have guessed Was a blow—away paper the rain Had brought to rest. It is speckled with grime as if
 3
The Demiurge’s Laugh

It was far in the sameness of the… I was running with joy on the Dem… Though I knew what I hunted was n… It was just as the light was begin… That I suddenly heard—all I neede…



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