The Birthday of…American Poet Robert Frost

March marks the birthday month of famous American poet, Robert Frost....

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When I was just a little girl, my mother would read simple poetry to my sister, Nancy, and I whilst we sipped tea from baby pink tea cups and ate cake, biscuits or scones…

We sat under a shady tree in the summer and inside at a prettily arranged tea table in the winter – we always had a baked treat to go along with the reading and plenty of tea!

Those were such precious days and I treasure them still - memories were made and minds were filled…

One of the first poems we ever read together was, ‘Christopher Robin goes to Buckingham Palace.  I still love that poem and enjoy repeating the first line to myself on occasion or with my sisters!

But, as I was saying, the famous American poet, Robert Frost would have celebrated his 241^st birthday on the 26 of March, and I thought compiling a few of his poems would be a lovely way to note and remember this great poet’s works!!

These are a few of his poems that I personally enjoyed…

Nothing Gold Can Stay

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.

By Robert Frost

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

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 little 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 is there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy 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.

By Robert Frost

A Late Walk

When I go up through the mowing field,

The headless aftermath,

Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,

Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,

The whir of sober birds

Up from the tangle of withered weeds

Is sadder than any words

A tree bedside the wall stands bare,

But a leaf that lingered brown,

Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,

Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth

By picking the faded blue

Of the last remaining aster flower

To carry again to you.

By Robert Frost

And as it is always interesting to know more about the writer of such poems, here are a few things about Robert Frost which I thought you may like to know…

Robert Lee Frost was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco, California.  
He and his wife, Elinor, had six children.

His work was first recognized and published in England, where he lived for a short period of time.

Frost is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech.

He was greatly influenced by classical poets and found inspiration for many of his poems in the landscapes, speech mannerisms and folkways of New England, chiefly Vermont and New Hampshire.

Oftentimes Frost is praised for being a direct writer, but he cannot always be read easily.

He became the most popular American poet of his time.

He died on January 29, 1963.

I hope you enjoyed reading about this famous poet as much as I did…  He was an extremely talented man who led quite a sad life, yet he wrote so beautifully! 

I love how we can remember him and enjoy his works even now, all these years later…

Do you have a favourite Robert Frost poem?  Which of the above three poems do you like the most?

May your day be blessed!

 Bibliography:

2012 World Book – Frost, Robert

Wikipedia – The Free Encyclopaedia, Robert Lee Frost