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Robert Frost's Poems
A proven bestseller time and time again, Robert Frost's Poems contains all of Robert Frost's best-known poems-and dozens more-in a portable anthology. Here are "Birches," "Mending Wall," "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," "Two Tramps at Mudtime," "Choose Something Like a Star," and "The Gift Outright," which Frost read at the inauguration of John F. Kennedy." An essential addition to every home library, Robert Frost's Poems is a celebration of the New England countryside, Frost's appreciation of common folk, and his wonderful understanding of the human condition. These classic verses touch our hearts and leave behind a lasting impression.
* Over 100 poems
* All Frost's best known verses from throughout his life
* Over 100 poems
* All Frost's best known verses from throughout his life
288 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1949
About the author
Robert Frost
738 books4,495 followersFlinty, moody, plainspoken and deep, Robert Frost was one of America's most popular 20th-century poets. Frost was farming in Derry, New Hampshire when, at the age of 38, he sold the farm, uprooted his family and moved to England, where he devoted himself to his poetry. His first two books of verse, A Boy's Will (1913) and North of Boston (1914), were immediate successes. In 1915 he returned to the United States and continued to write while living in New Hampshire and then Vermont. His pastoral images of apple trees and stone fences -- along with his solitary, man-of-few-words poetic voice -- helped define the modern image of rural New England. Frost's poems include "Mending Wall" ("Good fences make good neighbors"), "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" ("Whose woods these are I think I know"), and perhaps his most famous work, "The Road Not Taken" ("Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- / I took the one less traveled by"). Frost was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for poetry four times: in 1924, 1931, 1937 and 1943. He also served as "Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress" from 1958-59; that position was renamed as Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry (or simply Poet Laureate) in 1986.
Frost recited his poem "The Gift Outright" at the 1961 inauguration of John F. Kennedy... Frost attended both Dartmouth College and Harvard, but did not graduate from either school... Frost preferred traditional rhyme and meter in poetry; his famous dismissal of free verse was, "I'd just as soon play tennis with the net down."
Frost recited his poem "The Gift Outright" at the 1961 inauguration of John F. Kennedy... Frost attended both Dartmouth College and Harvard, but did not graduate from either school... Frost preferred traditional rhyme and meter in poetry; his famous dismissal of free verse was, "I'd just as soon play tennis with the net down."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 146 reviews
May 21, 2020
" . . . many of the lyrics as well as the monologues suggest an interior darkness, they [also] have the color and quality of his New England woods, being lovely as well as dark and deep." -- commentator Louis Untermeyer, on page 264
I don't read a lot of poetry, but I've been interested in Robert Frost's work ever since first reading both his 'Mending Wall' (known for the oft-quoted line "good fences make good neighbors") and 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' (referenced by this edition's commentator in my opening quote, and remembered for its "And miles to go before I sleep" conclusion) many years ago. Also, let's not forget that cultured John F. Kennedy requested that the aging poet speak at his '61 presidential inauguration - to recite a poem, which was a first - so Frost has a certain coolness factor (ha-ha).
This sturdy paperback is a nice condensed volume that collects over 100 poems from Frost's 60+ years (1894-1962) of published writing. Nature, farming and/or rural life in the New England region are usually the main focus. I particularly liked the sing-song 'Blueberries' (and I don't even like eating blueberries!), the super-melancholy 'My November Guest,' the autumnal 'After Apple-Picking' and also 'The Grindstone,' which features the humorous opening "Having a wheel and four legs of its own / has never availed the cumbersome grindstone / to get it anywhere that I can see" - truth!
I don't read a lot of poetry, but I've been interested in Robert Frost's work ever since first reading both his 'Mending Wall' (known for the oft-quoted line "good fences make good neighbors") and 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' (referenced by this edition's commentator in my opening quote, and remembered for its "And miles to go before I sleep" conclusion) many years ago. Also, let's not forget that cultured John F. Kennedy requested that the aging poet speak at his '61 presidential inauguration - to recite a poem, which was a first - so Frost has a certain coolness factor (ha-ha).
This sturdy paperback is a nice condensed volume that collects over 100 poems from Frost's 60+ years (1894-1962) of published writing. Nature, farming and/or rural life in the New England region are usually the main focus. I particularly liked the sing-song 'Blueberries' (and I don't even like eating blueberries!), the super-melancholy 'My November Guest,' the autumnal 'After Apple-Picking' and also 'The Grindstone,' which features the humorous opening "Having a wheel and four legs of its own / has never availed the cumbersome grindstone / to get it anywhere that I can see" - truth!
May 7, 2016
I had read some of his poems, like "Mending the wall" and "the snowstorm", but not all of them, until now. I had not realised how great and famous Frost was in his lifetime. Now I understand better.
I just love and admire his farmland poetry, it reminds me of so many things of my own young life in the countryside (in Austria though). And then he enchants with his deep human knowledge, amorous, grumpy, hopeful or disappointed. He sings of trees and flowers and birds and butterflys even ants and insects, he knows their songs and sounds, their smell and perfumes, down to the earth, mud and dust. His variety of style keeps you reading wthout relent. Funny, witty, clever, direct and indirect kreepy and ghostly etc.
I think that many of his poems could be developed into novels, if written out, there is so much material and potential.
This is one of the poetry books I will keep on my bedside table, like Emily Dickinson, Li Po, Kippling,
I just love and admire his farmland poetry, it reminds me of so many things of my own young life in the countryside (in Austria though). And then he enchants with his deep human knowledge, amorous, grumpy, hopeful or disappointed. He sings of trees and flowers and birds and butterflys even ants and insects, he knows their songs and sounds, their smell and perfumes, down to the earth, mud and dust. His variety of style keeps you reading wthout relent. Funny, witty, clever, direct and indirect kreepy and ghostly etc.
I think that many of his poems could be developed into novels, if written out, there is so much material and potential.
This is one of the poetry books I will keep on my bedside table, like Emily Dickinson, Li Po, Kippling,
May 26, 2018
Me tapino: nella mia ossessione vetero-adolescenziale per l’innovazione quando non sperimentazione a tutti i costi, ho sempre seguito quella tonante vulgata per cui Robert Frost… chi me lo fa fare di leggere un poeta nato vecchio e che scriveva in maniera classica mentre suoi conterranei emigrati come Pound ed Eliot rivoluzionavano l’arte della poesia?
A parte il dilemma su cosa vuol dire “scrivere in maniera classica", argomento insidioso che diventa pernicioso nel caso di Frost, che solo in superficie sembra classico; dicevo, a parte questo dilemma, arrivo solo ora da buon miserabile ultimo a leggere Frost, anche grazie a un saggio letto pochi mesi fa di Iosif Brodskij che mi ha aiutato a scoperchiare questo vaso di Pandora che è la poesia dell’americano, letteralmente piena di ogni male sebbene presentata alla subdola maniera di un uomo pacifico e flemmatico.
Dunque mi ero perso Frost, e mi ero perso tantissimo.
Schematizzando in maniera forse troppo estrema, credo che si possa dividere la sua opera non tanto in base alle raccolte (che mostrano sempre grande continuità e coerenza, stilistica e tematica, dalla prima all’ultima), ma più semplicemente in base alla lunghezza delle singole poesie. Con le dovute ma rare eccezioni, Frost ha scritto brevi poesie liriche e (relativamente) lunghe poesie narrative. Queste ultime sono certamente quello che mostrano il suo maggiore stato di grazia: la perfezione di Home Burial, in questo, è probabilmente impareggiabile, ma in generale tutte (tutte quelle qui antologizzate, almeno) sono notevolissime. Estremamente teatrali, caratterizzate da una forma dialogica che lascia poco spazio al contorno e tantissimo al detto dei personaggi, colpisce comunque quanto quel poco spazio di contorno possa essere efficace in pochissime parole, che danno perfetta visione d’insieme del dialogo in corso. I dialoghi, poi, ovvero il detto che in realtà è un non detto: Frost svela poco a poco la situazione in cui i personaggi sono immersi, centellina i particolari e non dice tutto: l’atmosfera lugubre che caratterizza anche situazioni apparentemente banali ne giova. Quelle cose che i personaggi non dicono, che la poesia non dice, ma che in qualche modo si intuiscono sono dei macigni che, proprio perché non svelati, rimangono come un groppo in gola anche molto dopo la lettura. Di una bellezza epocale, credo che Hemingway come Carver come Cheever come Munro come molti altri narratori brevi nordamericani debbano molto al vecchio Frosty, nomen omen dell’algido ometto che ci spaventava coi suoi testi pacati: hanno semplicemente messo in prosa quel che Frost aveva già fatto in versi, assicurandosi così il successo planetario (a parte Cheever forse, che rimane ancora parzialmente in ombra). Specifichiamo: non che il successo, soprattutto in vecchiaia, non abbia arriso al nostro buon poeta, tanto che negli States è considerato una sorta di vate nazionale (se qualcosa di simile è concepibile in una nazione nata come capitalistico-puritana e rimasta tale da allora), e va a formare la sacra triade con Whitman e Dickinson. Fuori dal paese natio però Frost è indubbiamente meno conosciuto dei due più antichi colleghi.
Si diceva anche delle poesie liriche: meno intense di quelle narrative, probabilmente alcune potrebbero anche sembrare banali se non fosse per la capacità di Frost di usare suono e ritmo, rinunciando raramente al verso classico inglese (perlopiù quel pentametro giambico che ha fatto la fortuna di tanti): certo, lo si dice di tanti poeti, che d’altronde son tali proprio per la loro qualità musicale, ma gli apici raggiunti da Frost fanno veramente impallidire per magnificenza sonora. Come rendere il nulla di ché un opera d’arte di rara maestria? Basta chiedere al maestro.
Quattro stelle perché le poesie della vecchiaia non sono all’altezza delle altre.
A parte il dilemma su cosa vuol dire “scrivere in maniera classica", argomento insidioso che diventa pernicioso nel caso di Frost, che solo in superficie sembra classico; dicevo, a parte questo dilemma, arrivo solo ora da buon miserabile ultimo a leggere Frost, anche grazie a un saggio letto pochi mesi fa di Iosif Brodskij che mi ha aiutato a scoperchiare questo vaso di Pandora che è la poesia dell’americano, letteralmente piena di ogni male sebbene presentata alla subdola maniera di un uomo pacifico e flemmatico.
Dunque mi ero perso Frost, e mi ero perso tantissimo.
Schematizzando in maniera forse troppo estrema, credo che si possa dividere la sua opera non tanto in base alle raccolte (che mostrano sempre grande continuità e coerenza, stilistica e tematica, dalla prima all’ultima), ma più semplicemente in base alla lunghezza delle singole poesie. Con le dovute ma rare eccezioni, Frost ha scritto brevi poesie liriche e (relativamente) lunghe poesie narrative. Queste ultime sono certamente quello che mostrano il suo maggiore stato di grazia: la perfezione di Home Burial, in questo, è probabilmente impareggiabile, ma in generale tutte (tutte quelle qui antologizzate, almeno) sono notevolissime. Estremamente teatrali, caratterizzate da una forma dialogica che lascia poco spazio al contorno e tantissimo al detto dei personaggi, colpisce comunque quanto quel poco spazio di contorno possa essere efficace in pochissime parole, che danno perfetta visione d’insieme del dialogo in corso. I dialoghi, poi, ovvero il detto che in realtà è un non detto: Frost svela poco a poco la situazione in cui i personaggi sono immersi, centellina i particolari e non dice tutto: l’atmosfera lugubre che caratterizza anche situazioni apparentemente banali ne giova. Quelle cose che i personaggi non dicono, che la poesia non dice, ma che in qualche modo si intuiscono sono dei macigni che, proprio perché non svelati, rimangono come un groppo in gola anche molto dopo la lettura. Di una bellezza epocale, credo che Hemingway come Carver come Cheever come Munro come molti altri narratori brevi nordamericani debbano molto al vecchio Frosty, nomen omen dell’algido ometto che ci spaventava coi suoi testi pacati: hanno semplicemente messo in prosa quel che Frost aveva già fatto in versi, assicurandosi così il successo planetario (a parte Cheever forse, che rimane ancora parzialmente in ombra). Specifichiamo: non che il successo, soprattutto in vecchiaia, non abbia arriso al nostro buon poeta, tanto che negli States è considerato una sorta di vate nazionale (se qualcosa di simile è concepibile in una nazione nata come capitalistico-puritana e rimasta tale da allora), e va a formare la sacra triade con Whitman e Dickinson. Fuori dal paese natio però Frost è indubbiamente meno conosciuto dei due più antichi colleghi.
Si diceva anche delle poesie liriche: meno intense di quelle narrative, probabilmente alcune potrebbero anche sembrare banali se non fosse per la capacità di Frost di usare suono e ritmo, rinunciando raramente al verso classico inglese (perlopiù quel pentametro giambico che ha fatto la fortuna di tanti): certo, lo si dice di tanti poeti, che d’altronde son tali proprio per la loro qualità musicale, ma gli apici raggiunti da Frost fanno veramente impallidire per magnificenza sonora. Come rendere il nulla di ché un opera d’arte di rara maestria? Basta chiedere al maestro.
Quattro stelle perché le poesie della vecchiaia non sono all’altezza delle altre.
January 12, 2013
I was impressed by the wide range of topics Frost wrote poems about. Some of the poems read like short stories; one of them had a Poe feel to it.
In all honesty, I bought this poetry collection solely for The Road Not Taken, but there were quite a lot of good poems in this one.
In all honesty, I bought this poetry collection solely for The Road Not Taken, but there were quite a lot of good poems in this one.
April 23, 2023
I could have read so many different poets, but I picked up Frost, and it has made all the difference.
In Nepal, everyone knows Robert Frost, as his poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is included in the course books. From that single poem, we come to regard him as a nature poet, but that's a very superficial opinion. As we go through more of his poems and analyze them, we come to know that he is much more, and his main theme is humanity, while reflecting the images of nature.
This collection contains almost all of his poems, some celebrated, some underrated and some pretty average, but all of them carrying a fragment of the poet.
In Nepal, everyone knows Robert Frost, as his poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is included in the course books. From that single poem, we come to regard him as a nature poet, but that's a very superficial opinion. As we go through more of his poems and analyze them, we come to know that he is much more, and his main theme is humanity, while reflecting the images of nature.
This collection contains almost all of his poems, some celebrated, some underrated and some pretty average, but all of them carrying a fragment of the poet.
April 26, 2022
Qué bueno es el profe Frost. Una colección lo suficientemente amplia como para descubrir a este tan particular poeta. Mis favoritos siempre han sido los versos con los que describe las cosas más simples, pequeñas en principio: madera cortada, caminos que bifurcan, nieve abandonada, abedules que bailan.
Seguramente no te gustarán todos, pero es innegable que encontrarás poemas que te van a acompañar para siempre.
Seguramente no te gustarán todos, pero es innegable que encontrarás poemas que te van a acompañar para siempre.
June 7, 2023
A thing I think I share with Frost is a deep connection to and affinity for nature, and an appreciation for the little things, which are only "little" because we choose to regard them as such. I believe that the selection of poems in this book emphasizes that aspect of his work.
I am particularly fond of this bit from The Tuft of Flowers:
"The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;"
I am particularly fond of this bit from The Tuft of Flowers:
"The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;"
March 9, 2019
Highly recommended: reading through a whole book of one poet's work.
If that sounds daunting, let me assure you: This book, which isn't even a complete collection of Frost's poems, took me eight months to get through. I read when I felt like it, sometimes several poems in a sitting, sometimes just one before bed. Whole weeks went by when I wasn't in a poem-y mood.
At first it was really hard to sit down and just read a poem but after a while, even though it still took concentration, it felt more like coming home. It got easier to adjust to poetry-reading mode.
I feel like Frost is a friend now. I don't want to be presumptuous or pretend I grasped more than a small bit of what he was trying to say and how he did so. But it's cool to start recognizing his style, the way he tends to describe things, and the things he tends to notice. It's like reading his journal.
The coolest thing was to start to see things the way he did, to find myself looking at something in nature or observing a conversation and thinking that it sounds or looks like something he'd write a poem about. I don't think you can begin to get to the heart of a poet without reading a large quantity of their work.
And I think reading a lot of one person's poetry shows you what it means to be a poet in general—read the famous poems and the unknown ones, the ones he wrote when young and when old, the long and the short, the "typical for him" and the experimental. It's good for me as a poet to get a glimpse of what the journey of a poet looks like. (Also I am WORDY and Frost is NOT so yeah I'll take all the help I can get.)
Also I just love his poetry. He's one of my faves. So read him even if you aren't a poet. =)
If you're interested, here are the poems I marked as ones that stuck out the most:
The Tuft of Flowers
The Bearer of Evil Tidings
Birches
To a Young Wretch
The Star-Splitter (this one!!)
The Oft-Repeated Dream
A Line-Storm Song
The Death of the Hired Man
A Patch of Old Snow
Evening in a Sugar Orchard
For Once, Then, Something
A Minor Bird
Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter
Two Look at Two
Nothing Gold Can Stay
A Hillside Thaw
My November Guest
I Will Sing You One-O
To Earthward
Last One Char
The Gift Outright
Acquainted with The Night (<--I've memorized this one, so come by someday and I'll recite it to you)
The Telephone
If that sounds daunting, let me assure you: This book, which isn't even a complete collection of Frost's poems, took me eight months to get through. I read when I felt like it, sometimes several poems in a sitting, sometimes just one before bed. Whole weeks went by when I wasn't in a poem-y mood.
At first it was really hard to sit down and just read a poem but after a while, even though it still took concentration, it felt more like coming home. It got easier to adjust to poetry-reading mode.
I feel like Frost is a friend now. I don't want to be presumptuous or pretend I grasped more than a small bit of what he was trying to say and how he did so. But it's cool to start recognizing his style, the way he tends to describe things, and the things he tends to notice. It's like reading his journal.
The coolest thing was to start to see things the way he did, to find myself looking at something in nature or observing a conversation and thinking that it sounds or looks like something he'd write a poem about. I don't think you can begin to get to the heart of a poet without reading a large quantity of their work.
And I think reading a lot of one person's poetry shows you what it means to be a poet in general—read the famous poems and the unknown ones, the ones he wrote when young and when old, the long and the short, the "typical for him" and the experimental. It's good for me as a poet to get a glimpse of what the journey of a poet looks like. (Also I am WORDY and Frost is NOT so yeah I'll take all the help I can get.)
Also I just love his poetry. He's one of my faves. So read him even if you aren't a poet. =)
If you're interested, here are the poems I marked as ones that stuck out the most:
The Tuft of Flowers
The Bearer of Evil Tidings
Birches
To a Young Wretch
The Star-Splitter (this one!!)
The Oft-Repeated Dream
A Line-Storm Song
The Death of the Hired Man
A Patch of Old Snow
Evening in a Sugar Orchard
For Once, Then, Something
A Minor Bird
Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter
Two Look at Two
Nothing Gold Can Stay
A Hillside Thaw
My November Guest
I Will Sing You One-O
To Earthward
Last One Char
The Gift Outright
Acquainted with The Night (<--I've memorized this one, so come by someday and I'll recite it to you)
The Telephone
February 22, 2013
It is something of a paradox that Frost, our most well-known poet, is also our most underrated poet. His over-familiarity has given a false image of him; people think he wrote Hallmark cards. Reading his poetry closely is a fascinating education. He is one of the darkest, most illusive American writers in some moods; in others, he is cynical and enigmatic. If you appreciate poetry, read Frost. If all you know is "The Road Not Taken" and you think Frost is an artless hack writing verse to be framed on the walls of middlebrow homes, read his collected works (and read that particular poem closely). He is the American author who, despite his ubiquity, deserves the most reassessment.
May 30, 2017
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.
May 11, 2016
Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.
September 21, 2017
New Enlarged Pocket Anthology of Robert Frost’s Poems: With an Introduction and Commentary by Louis Untermeyer. Pocket Books: 1971 (29th printing):
My first introduction to Robert Frost came in high school, specifically “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” These are his two most famous poems and probably most people have some familiarity with them. I like them and both spoke to me. I wouldn’t say they inspired me or influenced my own poetry, which developed much later. In high school I was still convinced that I didn’t like poetry. I came to understand later that I didn’t like poetry with facile rhymes or that simply pointed out an observation, thought or feeling that I already knew well from my own experience. It wasn’t until I discovered Dylan Thomas in college that I began to see the possibility for poetry to transcend and expand personal experiences.
Because Frost’s poetry spoke of what I would describe as mundane reality, I just never pursued his work further. I don’t mean mundane in a negative sense here. I mean it essentially as “objective” reality. But that’s not what I want to experience in the literary works that I read. I live mundane reality. I want the poetry I read to twist that reality and surprise me. Knowing of Frost’s influence on the field of poetry, however, I did pick up this collection of his poems. I decided I needed to read them. Here are my thoughts.
First, I can certainly agree with the critics that Frost was a superbly talented poet and a keen observer of the world. His poems are typically quite simple in construction, with straightforward rhyming patterns. When they impact me, they tend to evoke quiet and contemplative moods. And now I’ll say, and hope that I won’t be misunderstood, that quiet and contemplative is not what I want from my poetry. I want disturbing. I want rawness. I want the surreal. Frost does not give me these experiences and for that reason he’ll never be as important to me as someone like Dylan Thomas.
I really hope people do not take this as some kind of “dislike” of Frost, or that I’m saying he’s not a poet worthy of study and consideration. I don’t mean it that way. I’m talking about my own very personal and visceral (or lack of that) reaction to his work. Perhaps the best way I can say it is this: I have a bookshelf where I keep copies of works that inspire my own writing, or that have in some way shaped my philosophy on life. Dylan Thomas’s poetry is on that shelf. Some of Ray Bradbury’s is on that shelf. Robert Frost will not be on that shelf, though he may well be on “your” inspirational shelf. And if that is the case then I salute you.
Moving from my general response to Frost’s work to this specific collection, I’m not sure I’d recommend it. The poems are well presented, of course, and I generally liked the overall organization of the book. However, I just did not care for, or find useful, the commentary by Louis Untermeyer. Untermeyer was a well respected poet and critic, but I found his comments about Frost’s poetry to be long on hyperbole and low on information. Here’s an example, from page 168.
“The poems of Robert Frost have a way of uniting opposites. They are casual in tone but profound in effect, teasing and intense, playful yet deeply penetrating. Even when they seem to be about a particular place, they suggest ideas unlimited by space.”
This is a good example, to me, of saying nothing while seeming to say much. I would much rather have had information about when and where the poetry was written, and information about any historical connections that the poem may have had. I bought this collection, in part, because I felt I needed some commentary to help me experience Frost. I think now that this was a mistake and I should have come to the poems without any filter. To those of you who are interested in writing poetry and want to study Frost for that reason, I’d suggest a collection with no commentary. For those of you who are making a more literary study of Frost, this collection might be useful but I don’t think it would be a good starting point. Something that places Frost’s work better into the context of his times would likely prove more useful.
My first introduction to Robert Frost came in high school, specifically “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” These are his two most famous poems and probably most people have some familiarity with them. I like them and both spoke to me. I wouldn’t say they inspired me or influenced my own poetry, which developed much later. In high school I was still convinced that I didn’t like poetry. I came to understand later that I didn’t like poetry with facile rhymes or that simply pointed out an observation, thought or feeling that I already knew well from my own experience. It wasn’t until I discovered Dylan Thomas in college that I began to see the possibility for poetry to transcend and expand personal experiences.
Because Frost’s poetry spoke of what I would describe as mundane reality, I just never pursued his work further. I don’t mean mundane in a negative sense here. I mean it essentially as “objective” reality. But that’s not what I want to experience in the literary works that I read. I live mundane reality. I want the poetry I read to twist that reality and surprise me. Knowing of Frost’s influence on the field of poetry, however, I did pick up this collection of his poems. I decided I needed to read them. Here are my thoughts.
First, I can certainly agree with the critics that Frost was a superbly talented poet and a keen observer of the world. His poems are typically quite simple in construction, with straightforward rhyming patterns. When they impact me, they tend to evoke quiet and contemplative moods. And now I’ll say, and hope that I won’t be misunderstood, that quiet and contemplative is not what I want from my poetry. I want disturbing. I want rawness. I want the surreal. Frost does not give me these experiences and for that reason he’ll never be as important to me as someone like Dylan Thomas.
I really hope people do not take this as some kind of “dislike” of Frost, or that I’m saying he’s not a poet worthy of study and consideration. I don’t mean it that way. I’m talking about my own very personal and visceral (or lack of that) reaction to his work. Perhaps the best way I can say it is this: I have a bookshelf where I keep copies of works that inspire my own writing, or that have in some way shaped my philosophy on life. Dylan Thomas’s poetry is on that shelf. Some of Ray Bradbury’s is on that shelf. Robert Frost will not be on that shelf, though he may well be on “your” inspirational shelf. And if that is the case then I salute you.
Moving from my general response to Frost’s work to this specific collection, I’m not sure I’d recommend it. The poems are well presented, of course, and I generally liked the overall organization of the book. However, I just did not care for, or find useful, the commentary by Louis Untermeyer. Untermeyer was a well respected poet and critic, but I found his comments about Frost’s poetry to be long on hyperbole and low on information. Here’s an example, from page 168.
“The poems of Robert Frost have a way of uniting opposites. They are casual in tone but profound in effect, teasing and intense, playful yet deeply penetrating. Even when they seem to be about a particular place, they suggest ideas unlimited by space.”
This is a good example, to me, of saying nothing while seeming to say much. I would much rather have had information about when and where the poetry was written, and information about any historical connections that the poem may have had. I bought this collection, in part, because I felt I needed some commentary to help me experience Frost. I think now that this was a mistake and I should have come to the poems without any filter. To those of you who are interested in writing poetry and want to study Frost for that reason, I’d suggest a collection with no commentary. For those of you who are making a more literary study of Frost, this collection might be useful but I don’t think it would be a good starting point. Something that places Frost’s work better into the context of his times would likely prove more useful.
September 28, 2017
New Enlarged Pocket Anthology of Robert Frost’s Poems: With an Introduction and Commentary by Louis Untermeyer. Pocket Books: 1971 (29th printing):
My first introduction to Robert Frost came in high school, specifically “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” These are his two most famous poems and probably most people have some familiarity with them. I like them and both spoke to me. I wouldn’t say they inspired me or influenced my own poetry, which developed much later. In high school I was still convinced that I didn’t like poetry. I came to understand later that I didn’t like poetry with facile rhymes or that simply pointed out an observation, thought or feeling that I already knew well from my own experience. It wasn’t until I discovered Dylan Thomas in college that I began to see the possibility for poetry to transcend and expand personal experiences.
Because Frost’s poetry spoke of what I would describe as mundane reality, I just never pursued his work further. I don’t mean mundane in a negative sense here. I mean it essentially as “objective” reality. But that’s not what I want to experience in the literary works that I read. I live mundane reality. I want the poetry I read to twist that reality and surprise me. Knowing of Frost’s influence on the field of poetry, however, I did pick up this collection of his poems. I decided I needed to read them. Here are my thoughts.
First, I can certainly agree with the critics that Frost was a superbly talented poet and a keen observer of the world. His poems are typically quite simple in construction, with straightforward rhyming patterns. When they impact me, they tend to evoke quiet and contemplative moods. And now I’ll say, and hope that I won’t be misunderstood, that quiet and contemplative is not what I want from my poetry. I want disturbing. I want rawness. I want the surreal. Frost does not give me these experiences and for that reason he’ll never be as important to me as someone like Dylan Thomas.
I really hope people do not take this as some kind of “dislike” of Frost, or that I’m saying he’s not a poet worthy of study and consideration. I don’t mean it that way. I’m talking about my own very personal and visceral (or lack of that) reaction to his work. Perhaps the best way I can say it is this: I have a bookshelf where I keep copies of works that inspire my own writing, or that have in some way shaped my philosophy on life. Dylan Thomas’s poetry is on that shelf. Some of Ray Bradbury’s is on that shelf. Robert Frost will not be on that shelf, though he may well be on “your” inspirational shelf. And if that is the case then I salute you.
Moving from my general response to Frost’s work to this specific collection, I’m not sure I’d recommend it. The poems are well presented, of course, and I generally liked the overall organization of the book. However, I just did not care for, or find useful, the commentary by Louis Untermeyer. Untermeyer was a well respected poet and critic, but I found his comments about Frost’s poetry to be long on hyperbole and low on information. Here’s an example, from page 168.
“The poems of Robert Frost have a way of uniting opposites. They are casual in tone but profound in effect, teasing and intense, playful yet deeply penetrating. Even when they seem to be about a particular place, they suggest ideas unlimited by space.”
This is a good example, to me, of saying nothing while seeming to say much. I would much rather have had information about when and where the poetry was written, and information about any historical connections that the poem may have had. I bought this collection, in part, because I felt I needed some commentary to help me experience Frost. I think now that this was a mistake and I should have come to the poems without any filter. To those of you who are interested in writing poetry and want to study Frost for that reason, I’d suggest a collection with no commentary. For those of you who are making a more literary study of Frost, this collection might be useful but I don’t think it would be a good starting point. Something that places Frost’s work better into the context of his times would likely prove more useful.
My first introduction to Robert Frost came in high school, specifically “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” These are his two most famous poems and probably most people have some familiarity with them. I like them and both spoke to me. I wouldn’t say they inspired me or influenced my own poetry, which developed much later. In high school I was still convinced that I didn’t like poetry. I came to understand later that I didn’t like poetry with facile rhymes or that simply pointed out an observation, thought or feeling that I already knew well from my own experience. It wasn’t until I discovered Dylan Thomas in college that I began to see the possibility for poetry to transcend and expand personal experiences.
Because Frost’s poetry spoke of what I would describe as mundane reality, I just never pursued his work further. I don’t mean mundane in a negative sense here. I mean it essentially as “objective” reality. But that’s not what I want to experience in the literary works that I read. I live mundane reality. I want the poetry I read to twist that reality and surprise me. Knowing of Frost’s influence on the field of poetry, however, I did pick up this collection of his poems. I decided I needed to read them. Here are my thoughts.
First, I can certainly agree with the critics that Frost was a superbly talented poet and a keen observer of the world. His poems are typically quite simple in construction, with straightforward rhyming patterns. When they impact me, they tend to evoke quiet and contemplative moods. And now I’ll say, and hope that I won’t be misunderstood, that quiet and contemplative is not what I want from my poetry. I want disturbing. I want rawness. I want the surreal. Frost does not give me these experiences and for that reason he’ll never be as important to me as someone like Dylan Thomas.
I really hope people do not take this as some kind of “dislike” of Frost, or that I’m saying he’s not a poet worthy of study and consideration. I don’t mean it that way. I’m talking about my own very personal and visceral (or lack of that) reaction to his work. Perhaps the best way I can say it is this: I have a bookshelf where I keep copies of works that inspire my own writing, or that have in some way shaped my philosophy on life. Dylan Thomas’s poetry is on that shelf. Some of Ray Bradbury’s is on that shelf. Robert Frost will not be on that shelf, though he may well be on “your” inspirational shelf. And if that is the case then I salute you.
Moving from my general response to Frost’s work to this specific collection, I’m not sure I’d recommend it. The poems are well presented, of course, and I generally liked the overall organization of the book. However, I just did not care for, or find useful, the commentary by Louis Untermeyer. Untermeyer was a well respected poet and critic, but I found his comments about Frost’s poetry to be long on hyperbole and low on information. Here’s an example, from page 168.
“The poems of Robert Frost have a way of uniting opposites. They are casual in tone but profound in effect, teasing and intense, playful yet deeply penetrating. Even when they seem to be about a particular place, they suggest ideas unlimited by space.”
This is a good example, to me, of saying nothing while seeming to say much. I would much rather have had information about when and where the poetry was written, and information about any historical connections that the poem may have had. I bought this collection, in part, because I felt I needed some commentary to help me experience Frost. I think now that this was a mistake and I should have come to the poems without any filter. To those of you who are interested in writing poetry and want to study Frost for that reason, I’d suggest a collection with no commentary. For those of you who are making a more literary study of Frost, this collection might be useful but I don’t think it would be a good starting point. Something that places Frost’s work better into the context of his times would likely prove more useful.
February 23, 2012
I own a 1946 edition of this book that I have carried with me around the country and world. It is falling apart now, but it is one of my favorite possessions.
Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.
Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.
May 27, 2012
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept 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 sigh
Somewhere 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
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept 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 sigh
Somewhere 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
September 4, 2012
Is Robert Frost my favorite poet ever? Possibly, yes, he very well could be. This collection of Frost poems has me pulling it off the shelf every time I need a friend. It doesn't matter what he writes about, it is always welcoming and approachable. He's got that intrigue in his words that never lets go. He always has some wisdom to share, and he makes me feel like he cares about those who are reading his poems.
September 1, 2015
As my last review was my first of a collection of short stories, this review will be my first of a collection of poetry. During the Spring of 2015—my last semester at Anoka-Ramsey Community College—I took a poetry course with the hopes of becoming more open and appreciative to it. I'm much more of a prose man, as all of my own ambitions are in that form. In the end, I was glad I took it. I learned how to carefully read poetry, and what things to pay attention to. I also learned something that I'm sure most novices of poetry learn: Robert Frost was the man to read. I ended up writing two papers on his work, one on 'Birches,' the other on 'Home Burial.' As inclined as I am to read novels by my favorite authors, I don't intend to let poetry fall completely to the wayside. The form keeps one thoughtful, allows one to pay closer attention to words, theirs meanings, and how they interact with the words surrounding them. It is all so much more deliberate, and I saw that most in Frost. It follows that when I set out to Barnes & Noble for a book of poetry, I didn't hesitate to swipe this edition of collected Robert Frost poems from the shelf.
The thing that strikes me most about Frost's poetry is his ability to hit you over the head with such a searching metaphysical quandary just as you were reading about a thing so ordinary as a tree, or the fruit it bears. For example, in 'West-running Brook,' the love of a young married couple radiates outward to the brook they're appreciating. At his love's urging, the man goes on a monologue of metaphysics, comparing our existence—the world and the vast universe surrounding us—to the flowing waters. I think Frost intended for the young woman to urge us onto the same path of thought, against the flowing of time.
Though many may think of Frost as something of a nature poet, being known most for his poems like 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,' or 'The Road Not Taken,' his talents and expertise range far beyond being well-versed in country things. Frost's knowledge about the nature of man is seemingly endless, how he is able to pinpoint such specific and undying emotions; how he can account for such unconscious human motives, be they good or ill. One of my favorite discoveries within this collection came right on the heels of my finishing a little-known book called Empty Hands, Open Arms, one writer's account of his time traveling with the Bonobo Conservation Initiative in the Congo. Bonobos are the species of great ape that are closest to humans in terms of genetics. I learned a lot of very interesting things about great apes from reading that book. Studying the lives and habits of great apes has the adverse effect of man reflecting on oneself. For all our innovation and intelligence, it sometimes seems we've been corrupted, or perhaps retarded, by such evolutions. Frost describes this with such wit and irony in 'At Woodward's Gardens' in the form of a little boy taking pleasure in burning two caged monkeys by magnifying the sun onto their faces. The true lesson is in how the animals—though not all that different from us—react, snatching away the weapon they don't understand and burying it towards the back of their cage.
For all his mastery of lyric and traditional forms, Frost's use of dialogue and colloquial language created the best of his poems in my opinion. 'Home Burial,' 'West-running Brook,' 'The Fear,' and (perhaps the most exquisite) 'The Death of the Hired Man,' all of these are perfect examples of Frost meshing ordinary conversation and flowing verse. It's in these poems that human emotion is most fully realized, not in the poet's telling, but through the very words and actions of the people he presents to us. The realization of emotion is natural on the reader's part, as if overhearing the poem from a place in hiding. I believe it's these poems that I'll mean to return to when I next pick up this collection to rediscover the wonder of Frost's work, for they're the biggest reminders that the extravagance of life is always hidden somewhere deep within the ordinary, the everyday.
Louis Untermeyer, the man who collected and commented on the poems throughout, does a good job of preparing readers for the tone of a poem, as well as informing them about some details of the poetry that society may have forgotten with time. He's there to remind us that the two opposites of Frost—the optimist who's equal parts lover and worker, as well as the brooding poet who's 'Acquainted with the Night'—are to be taken together, for they represent the dark and light in all of us. His final note at the collection's end tells readers of the epitaph that Frost wrote for his own grave stone: "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." Though he admits his own turbulence with life, for surely the poet's life was plagued with tragedies both known and untold, reading his poetry fills me with a certainty that I haven't found elsewhere in literature. With Frost in mind—remembering that greatness lies within the man and not the road he chooses to travel—I can step through life with more confidence. The worth of literature is a subtle yet beautiful thing, and I think anyone could find it while reading Robert Frost.
The thing that strikes me most about Frost's poetry is his ability to hit you over the head with such a searching metaphysical quandary just as you were reading about a thing so ordinary as a tree, or the fruit it bears. For example, in 'West-running Brook,' the love of a young married couple radiates outward to the brook they're appreciating. At his love's urging, the man goes on a monologue of metaphysics, comparing our existence—the world and the vast universe surrounding us—to the flowing waters. I think Frost intended for the young woman to urge us onto the same path of thought, against the flowing of time.
Though many may think of Frost as something of a nature poet, being known most for his poems like 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,' or 'The Road Not Taken,' his talents and expertise range far beyond being well-versed in country things. Frost's knowledge about the nature of man is seemingly endless, how he is able to pinpoint such specific and undying emotions; how he can account for such unconscious human motives, be they good or ill. One of my favorite discoveries within this collection came right on the heels of my finishing a little-known book called Empty Hands, Open Arms, one writer's account of his time traveling with the Bonobo Conservation Initiative in the Congo. Bonobos are the species of great ape that are closest to humans in terms of genetics. I learned a lot of very interesting things about great apes from reading that book. Studying the lives and habits of great apes has the adverse effect of man reflecting on oneself. For all our innovation and intelligence, it sometimes seems we've been corrupted, or perhaps retarded, by such evolutions. Frost describes this with such wit and irony in 'At Woodward's Gardens' in the form of a little boy taking pleasure in burning two caged monkeys by magnifying the sun onto their faces. The true lesson is in how the animals—though not all that different from us—react, snatching away the weapon they don't understand and burying it towards the back of their cage.
For all his mastery of lyric and traditional forms, Frost's use of dialogue and colloquial language created the best of his poems in my opinion. 'Home Burial,' 'West-running Brook,' 'The Fear,' and (perhaps the most exquisite) 'The Death of the Hired Man,' all of these are perfect examples of Frost meshing ordinary conversation and flowing verse. It's in these poems that human emotion is most fully realized, not in the poet's telling, but through the very words and actions of the people he presents to us. The realization of emotion is natural on the reader's part, as if overhearing the poem from a place in hiding. I believe it's these poems that I'll mean to return to when I next pick up this collection to rediscover the wonder of Frost's work, for they're the biggest reminders that the extravagance of life is always hidden somewhere deep within the ordinary, the everyday.
Louis Untermeyer, the man who collected and commented on the poems throughout, does a good job of preparing readers for the tone of a poem, as well as informing them about some details of the poetry that society may have forgotten with time. He's there to remind us that the two opposites of Frost—the optimist who's equal parts lover and worker, as well as the brooding poet who's 'Acquainted with the Night'—are to be taken together, for they represent the dark and light in all of us. His final note at the collection's end tells readers of the epitaph that Frost wrote for his own grave stone: "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." Though he admits his own turbulence with life, for surely the poet's life was plagued with tragedies both known and untold, reading his poetry fills me with a certainty that I haven't found elsewhere in literature. With Frost in mind—remembering that greatness lies within the man and not the road he chooses to travel—I can step through life with more confidence. The worth of literature is a subtle yet beautiful thing, and I think anyone could find it while reading Robert Frost.
February 24, 2012
Robert Frost offered the United States a taste of something new, yet something old. By combining traditional forms in poetry and modern techniques, Robert Frost became a leading figure of the modernist movement. His told stories behind beautiful words, appealing to people seeking poetry they could grasp, yet still feel comforted by what they knew poetry to be: traditional.
Robert Frost was a part of a modern world, but the importance of traditional form lingered throughout his work. First off, Frost loved nature. He wrote of pastures, mountains, and woods. A traditionalist, Frost stuck to his roots and wrote in closed-form, like “The Road Not Taken” with ABAAB rhyme scheme—unlike other modern poets from Europe who wrote in free form. “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” is written in iambic octameter, using “s” sounds to put across a soothing read. He thought himself writing “valid” poetry, embracing the form that other poets seemed to be abandoning. Frost also had a knack for creating metaphors that related that, as Kay Ryan said, “do not work as logic, but only as a poem.” He is further described to be a “control freak,” and, “could not have been in control to write such beautiful poetry.”
Part of writing such beautiful poetry, Frost accepted the modern world, and dealt with it in his work. He wrote poetry the way we speak our language, changing the way Americans viewed culture and nature. His poems are deep and profound, but with accessible language. He wrote of how people felt under alienation and loneliness. “Modern disease,” if you will. When writing of a modern man feeling drained from modern times, or reminiscing over the beauty in the landscape without urbanization, interpreters believe that Frost is not condemning modern society, but offering his point of view on the subject. With the use of tradition (nature, closed-form, and use of metaphors), and modern form (modern language, the working man, and the strains of life), Robert Frost’s poetry is defiantly significant.
According to Kay Ryan, Frost even dropped out of college due to poetry being too important to talk about in a college setting. He felt uncomfortable discussing their meanings, and the form and senses of the poems.
As a person who dismissed the modern idea of “open range” poetry, Frost looked at the new world and seemed to feel almost dismayed by it. Perhaps Frost longed for a time before the 20th centenary, therefore filling his poems with nature, as opposed to living in an industrial society. Then why is Frost considered a modernist poet? Because he not only wrote of nature, but of the struggles of the modern world, wrapping our heads around the disillusionment that stemmed from declining western culture. Robert Frost, a modernist with a traditional heavy shell, will always be remembered as the poet who conquered writing of what was, and what is.
Robert Frost was a part of a modern world, but the importance of traditional form lingered throughout his work. First off, Frost loved nature. He wrote of pastures, mountains, and woods. A traditionalist, Frost stuck to his roots and wrote in closed-form, like “The Road Not Taken” with ABAAB rhyme scheme—unlike other modern poets from Europe who wrote in free form. “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” is written in iambic octameter, using “s” sounds to put across a soothing read. He thought himself writing “valid” poetry, embracing the form that other poets seemed to be abandoning. Frost also had a knack for creating metaphors that related that, as Kay Ryan said, “do not work as logic, but only as a poem.” He is further described to be a “control freak,” and, “could not have been in control to write such beautiful poetry.”
Part of writing such beautiful poetry, Frost accepted the modern world, and dealt with it in his work. He wrote poetry the way we speak our language, changing the way Americans viewed culture and nature. His poems are deep and profound, but with accessible language. He wrote of how people felt under alienation and loneliness. “Modern disease,” if you will. When writing of a modern man feeling drained from modern times, or reminiscing over the beauty in the landscape without urbanization, interpreters believe that Frost is not condemning modern society, but offering his point of view on the subject. With the use of tradition (nature, closed-form, and use of metaphors), and modern form (modern language, the working man, and the strains of life), Robert Frost’s poetry is defiantly significant.
According to Kay Ryan, Frost even dropped out of college due to poetry being too important to talk about in a college setting. He felt uncomfortable discussing their meanings, and the form and senses of the poems.
As a person who dismissed the modern idea of “open range” poetry, Frost looked at the new world and seemed to feel almost dismayed by it. Perhaps Frost longed for a time before the 20th centenary, therefore filling his poems with nature, as opposed to living in an industrial society. Then why is Frost considered a modernist poet? Because he not only wrote of nature, but of the struggles of the modern world, wrapping our heads around the disillusionment that stemmed from declining western culture. Robert Frost, a modernist with a traditional heavy shell, will always be remembered as the poet who conquered writing of what was, and what is.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 16, 2013
I originally got in to Robert Frost via his poem Fire and Ice, which is a supposition piece of how the world is going to end. Since I enjoyed that poem so much I bought a collection of his poems on sale at the local bookstore. This book is a collection of everything from his most famous, to his most obscure poems and all the works in between. This book, I have found, is such a wonderful mentor text for teaching visualization, how to craft a setting and asking questions. As a teacher always looking for new and interesting ways to teach the material this opened a new world in terms of how to teach writing through poetry. Possibly my favorite poem in this book, of the several that I read, deals with the aspects of how to create a setting, and having the reader visualize what you are trying to write is the poem Road Not Taken.
The Road Not Taken uses such descriptive language that it makes it almost impossible for the reader to not visualize being "in" the poem. In my opinion you would have to be dead as a person to not visualize the woods, and the roads. The nature of the poem leads to the reader asking natural leading questions such as "what was down the road the author went down?", and "what could have possibly been down the other road that the author mentions missing out on?" Since this text has the questions almost built into it, it would be a good text to use when working on answering questions.
I could use the entire poem for a mini-lesson on setting, as the poem itself isn't terribly long and there are so many elements throughout the poem for setting to use. There are descriptions bout where the writer is, as well as what time of the day it is. I could also use it for visualization and take it stanza by stanza breaking it down into smaller pieces in order to analyze the sense words (the words that appeal to our senses). This would definitely qualify as a mentor text for
The Road Not Taken uses such descriptive language that it makes it almost impossible for the reader to not visualize being "in" the poem. In my opinion you would have to be dead as a person to not visualize the woods, and the roads. The nature of the poem leads to the reader asking natural leading questions such as "what was down the road the author went down?", and "what could have possibly been down the other road that the author mentions missing out on?" Since this text has the questions almost built into it, it would be a good text to use when working on answering questions.
I could use the entire poem for a mini-lesson on setting, as the poem itself isn't terribly long and there are so many elements throughout the poem for setting to use. There are descriptions bout where the writer is, as well as what time of the day it is. I could also use it for visualization and take it stanza by stanza breaking it down into smaller pieces in order to analyze the sense words (the words that appeal to our senses). This would definitely qualify as a mentor text for
January 16, 2021
Изначально, будучи знакомым с небольшим количеством работ Фроста, я его идеализировал, ставя наравне с такими деятелями как Уитмен и По. Изменилось ли мое мнение о писателе после ознакомления с более обширным рядом его произведений. Безусловно.
В какую же сторону?
Вопрос затруднительный. Первым аспектом, на который я обратил свое внимание было то, что слог Фроста (а читал я зачастую в оригинале) весьма своеобразен. Ему не свойственна привычная ритмическая структура и рифмовка, но от этого она не становится хуже. Это все равно что дорога от начала стихотворения до его конца, пройдя по который, ты ни разу не споткнёшься, но выйдешь все равно не в то место в которое шел, при этом желания вернуться обратно напрочь отсутствует.
В сборнике стихотворений, который я читал произведения были сгруппированы не в хронологическом порядке, а связаны общей темой, поэтому не могу ответить на вопрос о том какая же именно книга произвела на меня большее впечатление.
Мне пришлись по душе работы где повествование предоставляет из себя диалог (а порой и полилог), интересен помимо этого ��ыл и сюжет таких работ. Я думаю, что на основе многих из них могут быть созданы превосходные полотна. Особенно привлекательными мне показались стихи, где настроение автора весьма угрюмое, занявшие последние страницы. Автор также завораживает читателя своими работами про неживые предметы человеческого быта и неживой природы.
Наиболее слабыми мне показались работы о животных, не все конечно, но многие их них объединяла именно эта тематика.
В целом вышло неплохо, не то что я ожидал, но это все равно, что жаловаться на дождь в летний день когда ожидал солнца..
В какую же сторону?
Вопрос затруднительный. Первым аспектом, на который я обратил свое внимание было то, что слог Фроста (а читал я зачастую в оригинале) весьма своеобразен. Ему не свойственна привычная ритмическая структура и рифмовка, но от этого она не становится хуже. Это все равно что дорога от начала стихотворения до его конца, пройдя по который, ты ни разу не споткнёшься, но выйдешь все равно не в то место в которое шел, при этом желания вернуться обратно напрочь отсутствует.
В сборнике стихотворений, который я читал произведения были сгруппированы не в хронологическом порядке, а связаны общей темой, поэтому не могу ответить на вопрос о том какая же именно книга произвела на меня большее впечатление.
Мне пришлись по душе работы где повествование предоставляет из себя диалог (а порой и полилог), интересен помимо этого ��ыл и сюжет таких работ. Я думаю, что на основе многих из них могут быть созданы превосходные полотна. Особенно привлекательными мне показались стихи, где настроение автора весьма угрюмое, занявшие последние страницы. Автор также завораживает читателя своими работами про неживые предметы человеческого быта и неживой природы.
Наиболее слабыми мне показались работы о животных, не все конечно, но многие их них объединяла именно эта тематика.
В целом вышло неплохо, не то что я ожидал, но это все равно, что жаловаться на дождь в летний день когда ожидал солнца..
August 29, 2016
2.5 stars
Everyone knows the most famous Shakespeare plays and sonnets, but reading beyond those famous pieces lends a greater appreciation for him. Everyone knows the most famous Beatles' singles, but listening to the deeper cuts demonstrates the totality of their continued influence. Everyone knows the most famous van Gogh paintings, but viewing his lesser known works gives a fuller understanding of the artist. This, I hoped, would be the case with me and Robert Frost: that I would come to enjoy him more as I read more than his most well-known poems. Sadly, I like him less.
The famous poems are famous because they are better. "Stopping by Woods," "Fire and Ice," "Mending Wall," "The Road not Taken," "Acquainted with the Night," and "Nothing Gold Can Stay" are undeniably great pieces of poetry, and I did find several others, the deeper cuts, that I quite enjoyed, but overall, the collection is one-note. Frost has a definitive style and he gives voice to the New England working-man with some wonderful pastoral imagery, but that is about all he does in these nearly 300 pages.
Some poems I enjoyed beyond the famous ones listed above:
Tuft of Flowers
Home Burial
Love and a Question
An Old Man's Winter Night
The Investment
The Figure in the Doorway
The Woodpile
In a Disused Graveyard
Everyone knows the most famous Shakespeare plays and sonnets, but reading beyond those famous pieces lends a greater appreciation for him. Everyone knows the most famous Beatles' singles, but listening to the deeper cuts demonstrates the totality of their continued influence. Everyone knows the most famous van Gogh paintings, but viewing his lesser known works gives a fuller understanding of the artist. This, I hoped, would be the case with me and Robert Frost: that I would come to enjoy him more as I read more than his most well-known poems. Sadly, I like him less.
The famous poems are famous because they are better. "Stopping by Woods," "Fire and Ice," "Mending Wall," "The Road not Taken," "Acquainted with the Night," and "Nothing Gold Can Stay" are undeniably great pieces of poetry, and I did find several others, the deeper cuts, that I quite enjoyed, but overall, the collection is one-note. Frost has a definitive style and he gives voice to the New England working-man with some wonderful pastoral imagery, but that is about all he does in these nearly 300 pages.
Some poems I enjoyed beyond the famous ones listed above:
Tuft of Flowers
Home Burial
Love and a Question
An Old Man's Winter Night
The Investment
The Figure in the Doorway
The Woodpile
In a Disused Graveyard
May 1, 2021
Robert Frost once said that "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words," and in Frost's poetry compilation, "Robert Frost's Poems," the thoughts really did find their words. Throughout his lifetime, Frost has published hundreds of poems that collectively work to explain the limits and deep expanses of humankind. One characteristic of Frost's is to humble roles of power and yet to enlighten readers on the value of individual power. In pieces like "The Death of the Hired Man," there's an air of pride and judgement that's completely dissolved by the end. Or in "Paul's Wife," a short tale in verse about Paul Bunyan's wife, readers better understand American values like love, patriotism, and ambition for life. Through his words, Frost really can put emotions and unique mindsets into words, as individual as the reader themselves. I have this book 3 out of 5 stars because even though Frost is the best poet I have ever read, it is difficult to sit down and read poetry for an extended period of time. I would recommend this to anyone wanting a thoughtful read to go to in quiet moments, or anyone wanting to get into American-esque poetry in general.
February 2, 2013
*You can also read this review and some other here at my website too.*
One word- Awesome. I am not much of a poetry person and very rarely I like them. But I must say Robert Frost is completely different. Each of the poem seem to represent more than it meets the eye. Poems like "The Road Not Taken", "Out, Out-", "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" are simply epic. These poems show grave philosophies of life with subtle hints and deceptively simple lines. For anyone who likes to read, specially poems, I would suggest that this book is definitely worth reading. If you do not love poems, I would request you to read at least the aforementioned poems (with great patience and analysis) and I assure you won't regret the time you give.
One word- Awesome. I am not much of a poetry person and very rarely I like them. But I must say Robert Frost is completely different. Each of the poem seem to represent more than it meets the eye. Poems like "The Road Not Taken", "Out, Out-", "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" are simply epic. These poems show grave philosophies of life with subtle hints and deceptively simple lines. For anyone who likes to read, specially poems, I would suggest that this book is definitely worth reading. If you do not love poems, I would request you to read at least the aforementioned poems (with great patience and analysis) and I assure you won't regret the time you give.
February 16, 2018
4⭐️.
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promised to keep, and miles to go before I sleep l, and miles to go before I sleep.”
I bought this book as something to read Margot while she was in the womb, and when she used to sit still. (But I had never made a full pass straight through).
Law school ruined my ability to read poems, as it taught me to only read quickly and for facts. So this one was tough for me. I had to read and reread many times. And Frost (or the editor) has an odd way of shaping his poems so that it is hard sometimes to realize where the sentences stop and start.
That said, when I took the time to really slow down and read these poems and stories, I realize why Frost is considered a national treasure.
Hopefully I will reread this in the future and be a better receiver of his work.
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promised to keep, and miles to go before I sleep l, and miles to go before I sleep.”
I bought this book as something to read Margot while she was in the womb, and when she used to sit still. (But I had never made a full pass straight through).
Law school ruined my ability to read poems, as it taught me to only read quickly and for facts. So this one was tough for me. I had to read and reread many times. And Frost (or the editor) has an odd way of shaping his poems so that it is hard sometimes to realize where the sentences stop and start.
That said, when I took the time to really slow down and read these poems and stories, I realize why Frost is considered a national treasure.
Hopefully I will reread this in the future and be a better receiver of his work.
October 25, 2010
Besides Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, and Emily Dickinson, I must say Robert Frost is up there in the top five of my most favorite poetry. The reason for this is that his work, his poetry to be exact, is so specific to each topic that it is about. Be it love, isolation, decisions, or whatever else, Frost finds a way to make each of his poems very specific to the case at hand. There are no other distractions except the narrator and the narrator's focus. For example, in Frost's "Love and a Question", the poem focuses on the weary stranger, and a young bridge and groom. The outside world does not exist except for these three, there are no other distractions. To have such a focus in one's work is a great talent indeed.
July 25, 2011
I've been familiar with Frost's poetry--I've read or sung a good bit of it from High School to Randall Thompson's setting of Frost's poetry to music, Frostiana.
In a seminar class we read "Home Burial". The professor shared that of all the poetry Frost wrote and read aloud to audiences, "Home Burial" was one that was too personal to share publicly. Having looked more in depth at the poem, I too was struck by the insight and economy. As a pastor, this poem captures the struggle every married couple I've ever counseled. By that I do not mean in the specific circumstances and pain that are depicted in this poem, but in the general and tragic way in which couples miss one another.
Find it, and read it.
In a seminar class we read "Home Burial". The professor shared that of all the poetry Frost wrote and read aloud to audiences, "Home Burial" was one that was too personal to share publicly. Having looked more in depth at the poem, I too was struck by the insight and economy. As a pastor, this poem captures the struggle every married couple I've ever counseled. By that I do not mean in the specific circumstances and pain that are depicted in this poem, but in the general and tragic way in which couples miss one another.
Find it, and read it.
August 25, 2018
I was expecting something else. There is not much substance to most of it and failed to see the appeal. Barely a handful of poems which held my attention. Maybe because I was expecting it to be existential, deeper and not simply naturalistic or imagery which was without far reaching metaphors. Even the rhymes seemed forced at places and without much rhythm. Honestly don't know where to place it among my likings on the likes of Thoreau's naturalistic works and Rumi/Gibran/Khayyam's profound existential poetry. This is something else and doesn't seem like my type.
March 16, 2017
This little piece of Wild Grapes made the entire read worthwhile for me: "... I had not taken the first step in knowledge; I had not learned to let go with the hands, as still I have not learned to with the heart, and have no wish to with the heart - nor need, that I can see. The mind - is not the heart. I may yet live, as I know others live, to wish in vain to let go with the mind - of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me that I need learn to let go with the heart."
April 15, 2010
I am dismayed that I didn't know what a great poet Frost was before this. I got so tired of the standard Frost anthology fare: "The Road Not Taken," "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening," etc., but many of his other poems are insanely good. Go get a collection of his poems, they are worth it!
February 8, 2017
Although I am partial to the more melancholy poems, I did appreciate the humor as well. I must say that I thought there was too much commentary in the edition I read, so I skipped most of it and just read the poems. I don't want to be told the "meaning" of each poem, I prefer to form my own response.
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