Sentences are not different enough to hold the attention unless they are dramatic. No ingenuity of varying structure will do. All that… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
“Tree At My Window Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
Keats mourned that the rainbow, which as a boy had been for him a magic thing, had lost its glory because the… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
That day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her, Your head so much concerned with outer, Mine with… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working when you get up in the morning, and doesn't stop until you get to the… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
When I see birches bend to left and right... I like to think some boy's been swinging them. — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
“The promising young poets, the hopefuls? I'd name Richard Wilbur, Peter Viereck, Karl Shapiro, Elizabeth Bishop, Robert Lowell, John Ciardi...Leonard Bacon...but it is still… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
Lord, I have loved Your sky, Be it said against or for me, Have loved it clear and high, Or low and stormy... — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
Let him that is without stone among you cast the first thing he can lay his hands on. — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
It is only a moment here and a moment there that the greatest writer has. Some cognizance of the fact must be taken in… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
And of course there must be something wrong In wanting to silence any song. — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
There are two kinds of teachers: the kind that fill you with so much quail shot that you can't move, and the kind that… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But now the theory goes That the apple's a rose, And the pear is,… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee, and I'll forgive Thy great big joke on me. — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
What an exciting age it is we live in With all this talk about the hope of youth And nothing made of youth. — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
