Robert Frost was born in California 1874, of Scottish descent on his mother's side, and English descent on his father's. He sold his first poem 'My Butterfly: An Elegy' in 1894.He prospered at Harvard, then for 9 years he worked on his grandfather's farm in New Hampshire. Ultimately this was not a success, so between 1906 and 1911 he returned to being an English teacher. In 1912 he sailed to Britain with his family, stayed first in Glasgow, then went to Beaconsfield outside London. He wrote some of his best work while in England including his first book of Poems A Boy's Will in 1913 and while there met up with Ezra Pound, Edward Thomas and T.E.Hulme. At the start of World War 1 in 1915 he returned to US and bought a farm in New Hampshire, and pursued a career in teaching, writing, and lecturing. This home is still maintained today as Frost Place, a museum and poetry conference site. Until 1963 Frost spent every Summer and Autumn at the Bread Loaf Writers conference at Vermont.
He died in Boston in 1963. His epitaph was - "I had a lover's quarrel with the world."
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.
by Robert Frost (c1923).
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake,
The only other sound's the sweep
Of 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.
Good poem but a bit sad .Hopefully our snow won't be as deep or last as long.
ReplyDeleteNot sad at all......and he could see the stars, no yellow sodium lights then.
ReplyDeleteAgree with above comment 100%, though the poem does have a touch of yearning about it? TpM.
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