Poems by Robert Frost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LOVERS, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a ...

OUT walking in the frozen swamp one grey day
I paused and said, "I will turn back from here.
N...

I CAME an errand one cloud-blowing evening
To a slab-built, black-paper-covered house
Of one r...

(A Christmas Circular Letter) THE city had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country t...

THERE were three in the meadow by the brook
Gathering up windrows, piling cocks of hay,
With ...

SOMETHING inspires the only cow of late
To make no more of a wall than an open gate,
And think...

MARY sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
Sh...

IT was far in the sameness of the wood;
I was running with joy on the Demon's trail,
Though ...