Robert Frost Poetry Final

7/29/2019 Robert Frost Poetry Final

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LITERATURA NORTEAMIERICANA


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Neither Out Far Nor In Deep

The people along the sand

All turn and look one way.They turn their back on the land.They look at the sea all day.

As long as it takes to passA ship keeps raising its hull;

The wetter ground like glassReflects a standing gull

The land may vary more;But wherever the truth may be--The water comes ashore,

And the people look at the sea.

They cannot look out far.They cannot look in deep.But when was that ever a barTo any watch they keep?


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Acquainted 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.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feetWhen far away an interrupted cryCame over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;And further still at an unearthly height,O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the timewas neither wrong nor right.

I have been one acquainted with the night..


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Desert places

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fastIn a field I looked into going past,

And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it--it is theirs.All animals are smothered in their lairs.

I am too absent-spirited to count;The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is that lonelinessWill be more lonelyere it will be lessA blanker whiteness ofbenighted snowWith no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spacesBetween stars--on stars where no human race is.I have it in me so much nearer home

To scare myself with my own desert places.


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Design

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,

On a white heal-all, holding up a mothLike a white piece of rigid satin cloth --

Assorted characters of death and blightMixed ready to begin the morning right,Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --

A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?

What brought the kindred spider to that height,Then steered the white moth thither in the night?What but design of darkness to appall?--If design govern in a thing so small.


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Dust of snow

The way a crowShook down on meThe dust of snowFrom a hemlock tree

Has given my heartA change of moodAnd saved some partOf a day I had rued.


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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 hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.


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The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claimBecause it was grassy and wanted wear,Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.


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Nothing gold can stay

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.


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Fire and Ice

Some saythe world will end in fire,Some sayin ice.From what I've tasted of desireI hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,I think I know enough of hateTo say that for destruction iceIs also great

And would suffice.


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Mending Wall


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Robert Frost Poetry Final

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