Poems by Robert Frost

What tree may not the fig be gathered from?
The grape may not be gathered from the birch?
It's...

WHAT things for dream there are when spectre-like,
Moving among tall haycocks lightly piled, ...

IF tired of trees I seek again mankind,
Well I know where to hie me--in the dawn,
To a slop...

HE is said to have been the last Red Man
In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed--
If ...

THE sound of the closing outside door was all.
You made no sound in the grass with your footfall...

LOVE and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountain side
With night so...

I WENT to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was g...

EVEN the bravest that are slain
Shall not dissemble their surprise
On waking to find valor re...

COME with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flo...

I SLUMBERED with your poems on my breast
Spread open as I dropped them half-read through
Like d...

LOVE at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived ...

I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another ...

THE three stood listening to a fresh access
Of wind that caught against the house a moment,
Gu...

I DIDN'T make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised my...

TWO fairies it was
On a still summer day
Came forth in the woods
With the flowers to play. ...