Category Archives: Frost Robert

In Neglect by Robert Frost

Posted on October 2, 2017 by russellboyle.com

They leave us so to the way we took, As two in whom they were proved mistaken, That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook, With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look, And try if we cannot feel forsaken. Robert Frost 1874–1963 Advertisements

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Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost

Posted on June 19, 2015 by russellboyle.com

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. … Continue reading →

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Reluctance by Robert Frost

Posted on May 31, 2015 by russellboyle.com

Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and descended; I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended. … Continue reading →

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Desert Places by Robert Frost

Posted on June 26, 2014 by russellboyle.com

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast In 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. … Continue reading →

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Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost

Posted on June 26, 2014 by russellboyle.com

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 … Continue reading →

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Boeotian by Robert Frost

Posted on April 23, 2014 by russellboyle.com

I love to toy with the Platonic notion That wisdom need not be of Athens Attic, But well may be Laconic, even Boeotian. At least I will not have it systematic. Robert Frost 1874-1963

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Blueberries by Robert Frost

Posted on October 10, 2013 by russellboyle.com

“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 … Continue reading →

Posted in Frost Robert | Tagged 1874 – 1963, berries, Blueberries by Robert Frost, conversation, fruit of the earth, literature, nature, pleasures, poem, poetry, Russell Boyle, simple, writing | 4 Comments