The Tuft of Flowers

At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
Robert Frost --- The Tuft of Flowers

Once By The Pacific

The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.

Robert Frost --- Once By The Pacific

In Hardwood Groves

Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed

Robert Frost --- In Hardwood Groves

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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near

Robert Frost --- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Going For Water

Each laid on other a staying hand

To listen ere we dared to look,
And in the hush we joined to make
We heard, we knew we heard the brook.
Robert Frost --- Going For Water

The Freedom of The Moon

I've tried the new moon tilted in the air
Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster
As you might try a jewel in your hair.
I've tried it fine with little breadth of luster,
Alone, or in one ornament combining
With one first-water start almost shining.

Robert Frost --- The Freedom of The Moon

The Kitchen Chimney

"However far you must go for bricks,

Whatever they cost a-piece or a pound,

Buy me enough for a full-length chimney,

And build the chimney clear from the ground

Robert Frost --- The Kitchen Chimney

Now Close the Windows

Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.

Robert Frost --- Now Close the Windows

An Old Man's Winter Night

All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.

Robert Frost --- An Old Man's Winter Night

Aquainted With The Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.

I have walked out in rain --and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

Robert Frost --- Aquainted With The Night

My Butterfly

It seems forever--

Since first I saw thee glance,
With all thy dazzling other ones,
In airy dalliance,
Precipitate in love,
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,
Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.

Robert Frost --- My Butterfly

Birches

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Robert Frost --- Birches

Mending Wall

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again...
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense...
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

Robert Frost --- Mending Wall

My November Guest

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so ryly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Robert Frost --- My November Guest

Gathering Leaves

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.

Robert Frost --- Gathering Leaves

Lodged

The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

Robert Frost --- Lodged

On Looking Up By Chance At The Constellations

You'll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run
like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed,
but they never touch,

Robert Frost.
"On Looking Up By Chance At The Constellations"

Blueberries

"You ought to have seen what I saw on my way

To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
In the cavernous pail of the first one to come!
And all ripe together, not some of them green
And some of them ripe! Your ought to have seen!"

Robert Frost. "Blueberries"

On A Tree Fallen Across the Road

The tree the tempest with a crash of wood

Throws down in front of us is not bar
Our passage to our journey's end for good,
But just to ask us who we think we are

Robert Frost.
"On A Tree Fallen Across the Road"

The Woodpile

It was a cord of maple, cut and split

And piled--and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before
The wood was grey and the bark warping off it

Robert Frost. "The Woodpile"