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A Collection of Poems by Robert Frost
Robert Frost
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eBook - ePub
A Collection of Poems by Robert Frost
Robert Frost
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The early works of beloved poet Robert Frost, collected in one volume. The poetry of Robert Frost is praised for its realistic depiction of rural life in New England during the early twentieth century, as well as for its examination of social and philosophical issues. Through the use of American idiom and free verse, Frost produced many enduring poems that remain popular with modern readers. A Collection of Poems by Robert Frost contains all the poems from his first four published collections: A Boy's Will (1913), North of Boston (1914), Mountain Interval (1916), and New Hampshire (1923), including classics such as "The Road Not Taken, " "Fire and Ice, " and "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."
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Sujet
LiteratureSous-sujet
American PoetryNew Hampshire
New Hampshire
I met a lady from the South who said
(You wonât believe she said it, but she said it):
âNone of my family ever worked, or had
A thing to sell.â I donât suppose the work
Much matters. You may work for all of me.
Iâve seen the time Iâve had to work myself.
The having anything to sell is what
Is the disgrace in man or state or nation.
I met a traveller from Arkansas
Who boasted of his state as beautiful
For diamonds and apples. âDiamonds
And apples in commercial quantities?â
I asked him, on my guard. âOh yes,â he answered,
Off his. The time was evening in the Pullman.
âI see the porterâs made your bed,â I told him.
I met a Californian who would
Talk Californiaâa state so blessed,
He said, in climate none had ever died there
A natural death, and Vigilance Committees
Had had to organize to stock the graveyards
And vindicate the stateâs humanity.
âJust the way Steffanson runs on,â I murmured,
âAbout the British Arctic. Thatâs what comes
Of being in the market with a climate.â
I met a poet from another state,
A zealot full of fluid inspiration,
Who in the name of fluid inspiration,
But in the best style of bad salesmanship,
Angrily tried to make me write a protest
(In verse I think) against the Volstead Act.
He didnât even offer me a drink
Until I asked for one to steady him.
This is called having an idea to sell.
It never could have happened in New Hampshire.
The only person really soiled with trade
I ever stumbled on in old New Hampshire
Was someone who had just come back ashamed
From selling things in California.
Heâd built a noble mansard roof with balls
On turrets like Constantinople, deep
In woods some ten miles from a railroad station,
As if to put forever out of mind
The hope of being, as we say, received.
I found him standing at the close of day
Inside the threshold of his open barn,
Like a lone actor on a gloomy stageâ
And recognized him through the iron gray
In which his face was muffled to the eyes
As an old boyhood friend, and once indeed
A drover with me on the road to Brighton.
His farm was âgrounds,â and not a farm at all;
His house among the local sheds and shanties
Rose like a factorâs at a trading station.
And he was rich, and I was still a rascal.
I couldnât keep from asking impolitely,
Where had he been and what had he been doing?
How did he get so? (Rich was understood.)
In dealing in âold ragsâ in San Francisco.
Oh it was terrible as well could be.
We both of us turned over in our graves.
Just specimens is all New Hampshire has,
One each of everything as in a showcase
Which naturally she doesnât care to sell.
She had one President (pronounce him Purse,
And make the most of it for better or worse.
Heâs your one chance to score against the state).
She had one Daniel Webster. He was all
The Daniel Webster ever was or shall be.
She had the Dartmouth needed to produce him.
I call her old. She has one family
Whose claim is good to being settled here
Before the era of colonization,
And before that of exploration even.
John Smith remarked them as he coasted by
Dangling their legs and fishing off a wharf
At the Isles of Shoals, and satisfied himself
They werenât Red Indians but veritable
Pre-primitives of the white race, dawn people,
Like those who furnished Adamâs sons with wives;
However uninnocent they may have been
In being there so early in our history.
Theyâd been there then a hundred years or more.
Pity he didnât ask what they were up to
At that date with a wharf already built,
And take their name. Theyâve since told me their nameâ
Today an honored one in Nottingham.
As for what they were up to more than fishingâ
Suppose they werenât behaving Puritanly,
The hour had not yet struck for being good,
Mankind had not yet gone on the Sabbatical.
It became an explorer of the deep
Not to explore too deep in othersâ business.
Did you but know of him, New Hampshire has
One real reformer who would change the world
So it would be accepted by two classes,
Artists the minute they set up as artists,
Before, that is, they are themselves accepted,
And boys the minute they get out of college.
I canât help thinking those are tests to go by.
And she has one I donât know what to call him,
Who comes from Philadelphia every year
With a great flock of chickens of rare breeds
He wants to give the educational
Advantages of growing almost wild
Under the watchful eye of hawk and eagleâ
Dorkings because theyâre spoken of by Chaucer,
Sussex because theyâre spoken of by Herrick.
She has a touch of gold. New Hampshire goldâ
You may have heard of it. I had a farm
Offered me not long since up Be...