10 Best Robert Frost Poems of All Time
Discover the top 10 Robert Frost poems. Explore his touching verses about love, nature, and life, showcasing why Frost remains a cherished poet.
Robert Frost was a popular American poet who lived from 1874 to 1963. He wrote many beautiful poems about nature, life, and rural America.
Frost grew up in New England and spent most of his life there. He started writing poems as a young man and became one of the most loved poets in the United States.
His poems often use simple language to talk about deep ideas. Frost won many awards for his writing, including four Pulitzer Prizes.
Robert Frost’s poem published in 1916 as part of the Mountain Interval collection has been featured in over 100 textbooks and anthologies used in schools and universities worldwide.
Some of his most famous poems and quotes are written below. His work is still read and enjoyed by people all over the world today.
Robert Frost poems about love
Robert Frost, famous for his poems about nature and life, also wrote touching love poems.
His work often explores the deep feelings and quiet moments that come with love, using simple language to capture complex emotions.
1. The Silken Tent
Written in: 1936
She is as in a field of silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightlest bondage made aware.
Summary
The poem compares a woman to a gentle tent in a sunny field, swaying softly in the breeze. The tent stands tall and firm, held up by many delicate ropes of love and thought, showing how she is connected to everything around her.
2. A Late Walk
Written in: 1915
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 beside 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.
Summary
The poem describes a walk through a field after mowing, where the speaker sees sad birds and a bare tree. They pick a faded flower to bring to someone special.
3. Love and a Question
Written in: 1913
A stranger came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his hand,
And, for all burden, care.
He asked with the eyes more than the lips
For a shelter for the night,
And he turned and looked at the road afar
Without a window light.
The bridegroom came forth into the porch
With ‘Let us look at the sky,
And question what of the night to be,
Stranger, you and I.’
The woodbine leaves littered the yard,
The woodbine berries were blue,
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
‘Stranger, I wish I knew.’
Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of the heart’s desire.
The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
And pinned with a silver pin.
The bridegroom thought it little to give
A dole of bread, a purse,
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,
Or for the rich a curse;
But whether or not a man was asked
To mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The bridegroom wished he knew.
Summary
A stranger asks for shelter at a couple's house, making the bridegroom wonder about helping him. Inside, the bride thinks of her love, while the bridegroom worries about bringing sadness into their home.
4. Meeting and Passing
Written in: 1920
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met, and you what I had passed.
Summary
The poem is about two people meeting on a hill. They talk and walk together, leaving footprints in the dust. One person holds a parasol and smiles at something on the ground.
Robert Frost poems about nature
His poems often celebrate the beauty of nature, capturing its changing seasons and landscapes. Through his words, he brings to life the quiet moments and hidden wonders of the natural world. This invites readers to explore and appreciate the outdoors in a new way.
5. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Written in: 1922
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 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.
Summary
In this poem, a man stops to watch the snow in a quiet, dark forest. Even though he loves the peaceful woods, he has things to do and a long way to go before he can rest.
6. The Road Not Taken
Written in: 1915
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Summary
In this poem, the speaker stands at a crossroads in a forest and chooses the road that is less traveled. They feel that this choice, though difficult to make, has made a big difference in their life.
Frost's "The Road Not Taken" often inspires people to make bold choices. However, sometimes our literary journeys take unexpected turns, as this meme humorously suggests:
"Tried taking the road less traveled by"
"Ended up reading Frost's 'Mending Wall' instead "
7. Birches
Written in: 1916
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
Summary
In this poem, the speaker imagines trees bending because of a boy swinging from them, even though ice storms actually cause the bending. The speaker dreams of escaping life's problems by climbing a tree and swinging back to a simpler, happier place.
Robert Frost's poetry remains popular even in the age of modern verse. This meme playfully captures the enduring appeal of his classic works:
"Friends suggest modern poetry"
"But you're still stuck in Frost's 'Birches'"
Robert Frost poems about life
Robert Frost’s poems about life offer a deep and thoughtful look at the human experience. Through his words, he explores themes like choices, nature, and the passage of time, helping us reflect on our own lives and the world around us.
8. Mending Wall
Written in: 1914
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Summary
In the poem, the speaker talks about how walls between neighbors can be unnecessary. Even though they work to fix the wall each year, the speaker wonders why they need it when there’s no real need for it. The neighbor believes that "good fences make good neighbors," but the speaker thinks that maybe walls aren't always needed and that something, like nature, wants them to come down.
9. The Death of the Hired Man
Written in: 1914
Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news
And put him on his guard. ‘Silas is back.’
She pushed him outward with her through the door
And shut it after her. ‘Be kind,’ she said.
She took the market things from Warren’s arms
And set them on the porch, then drew him down
To sit beside her on the wooden steps.
‘When was I ever anything but kind to him?
But I’ll not have the fellow back,’ he said.
‘I told him so last haying, didn’t I?
If he left then, I said, that ended it.
What good is he? Who else will harbor him
At his age for the little he can do?
What help he is there’s no depending on.
Off he goes always when I need him most.
He thinks he ought to earn a little pay,
Enough at least to buy tobacco with,
So he won’t have to beg and be beholden.
“All right,” I say, “I can’t afford to pay
Any fixed wages, though I wish I could.”
“Someone else can.” “Then someone else will have to.”
I shouldn’t mind his bettering himself
If that was what it was. You can be certain,
When he begins like that, there’s someone at him
Trying to coax him off with pocket-money,—
In haying time, when any help is scarce.
In winter he comes back to us. I’m done.’
‘Sh! not so loud: he’ll hear you,’ Mary said.
‘I want him to: he’ll have to soon or late.’
‘He’s worn out. He’s asleep beside the stove.
When I came up from Rowe’s I found him here,
Huddled against the barn-door fast asleep,
A miserable sight, and frightening, too—
You needn’t smile—I didn’t recognize him—
I wasn’t looking for him—and he’s changed.
Wait till you see.’
‘Where did you say he’d been?’
‘He didn’t say. I dragged him to the house,
And gave him tea and tried to make him smoke.
I tried to make him talk about his travels.
Nothing would do: he just kept nodding off.’
‘What did he say? Did he say anything?’
‘But little.’
‘Anything? Mary, confess
He said he’d come to ditch the meadow for me.’
‘Warren!’
‘But did he? I just want to know.’
‘Of course he did. What would you have him say?
Surely you wouldn’t grudge the poor old man
Some humble way to save his self-respect.
He added, if you really care to know,
He meant to clear the upper pasture, too.
That sounds like something you have heard before?
Warren, I wish you could have heard the way
He jumbled everything. I stopped to look
Two or three times—he made me feel so queer—
To see if he was talking in his sleep.
He ran on Harold Wilson—you remember—
The boy you had in haying four years since.
He’s finished school, and teaching in his college.
Silas declares you’ll have to get him back.
He says they two will make a team for work:
Between them they will lay this farm as smooth!
The way he mixed that in with other things.
He thinks young Wilson a likely lad, though daft
On education—you know how they fought
All through July under the blazing sun,
Silas up on the cart to build the load,
Harold along beside to pitch it on.’
‘Yes, I took care to keep well out of earshot.’
‘Well, those days trouble Silas like a dream.
You wouldn’t think they would. How some things linger!
Harold’s young college boy’s assurance piqued him.
After so many years he still keeps finding
Good arguments he sees he might have used.
I sympathize. I know just how it feels
To think of the right thing to say too late.
Harold’s associated in his mind with Latin.
He asked me what I thought of Harold’s saying
He studied Latin like the violin
Because he liked it—that an argument!
He said he couldn’t make the boy believe
He could find water with a hazel prong—
Which showed how much good school had ever done him.
He wanted to go over that. But most of all
He thinks if he could have another chance
To teach him how to build a load of hay—’
‘I know, that’s Silas’ one accomplishment.
He bundles every forkful in its place,
And tags and numbers it for future reference,
So he can find and easily dislodge it
In the unloading. Silas does that well.
He takes it out in bunches like big birds’ nests.
You never see him standing on the hay
He’s trying to lift, straining to lift himself.’
‘He thinks if he could teach him that, he’d be
Some good perhaps to someone in the world.
He hates to see a boy the fool of books.
Poor Silas, so concerned for other folk,
And nothing to look backward to with pride,
And nothing to look forward to with hope,
So now and never any different.’
Part of a moon was falling down the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw it
And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand
Among the harp-like morning-glory strings,
Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves,
As if she played unheard some tenderness
That wrought on him beside her in the night.
‘Warren,’ she said, ‘he has come home to die:
You needn’t be afraid he’ll leave you this time.’
‘Home,’ he mocked gently.
‘Yes, what else but home?
It all depends on what you mean by home.
Of course he’s nothing to us, any more
Than was the hound that came a stranger to us
Out of the woods, worn out upon the trail.’
‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.’
‘I should have called it
Something you somehow haven’t to deserve.’
Warren leaned out and took a step or two,
Picked up a little stick, and brought it back
And broke it in his hand and tossed it by.
‘Silas has better claim on us you think
Than on his brother? Thirteen little miles
As the road winds would bring him to his door.
Silas has walked that far no doubt today.
Why didn’t he go there? His brother’s rich,
A somebody—director in the bank.’
‘He never told us that.’
‘We know it though.’
‘I think his brother ought to help, of course.
I’ll see to that if there is need. He ought of right
To take him in, and might be willing to—
He may be better than appearances.
But have some pity on Silas. Do you think
If he’d had any pride in claiming kin
Or anything he looked for from his brother,
He’d keep so still about him all this time?’
‘I wonder what’s between them.’
‘I can tell you.
Silas is what he is—we wouldn’t mind him—
But just the kind that kinsfolk can’t abide.
He never did a thing so very bad.
He don’t know why he isn’t quite as good
As anyone. Worthless though he is,
He won’t be made ashamed to please his brother.’
‘I can’t think Si ever hurt anyone.’
‘No, but he hurt my heart the way he lay
And rolled his old head on that sharp-edged chair-back.
He wouldn’t let me put him on the lounge.
You must go in and see what you can do.
I made the bed up for him there tonight.
You’ll be surprised at him—how much he’s broken.
His working days are done; I'm sure of it.’
‘I’d not be in a hurry to say that.’
‘I haven’t been. Go, look, see for yourself.
But, Warren, please remember how it is:
He’s come to help you ditch the meadow.
He has a plan. You mustn’t laugh at him.
He may not speak of it, and then he may.
I’ll sit and see if that small sailing cloud
Will hit or miss the moon.’
It hit the moon.
Then there were three there, making a dim row,
The moon, the little silver cloud, and she.
Warren returned—too soon, it seemed to her,
Slipped to her side, caught up her hand and waited.
‘Warren,’ she questioned.
‘Dead,’ was all he answered.
Summary
In the poem, Mary and Warren discuss Silas, a tired old worker who has come back to their home. Mary wants Warren to be kind to Silas, who has no place else to go. Warren is upset but eventually finds out that Silas has died, leaving them to reflect on his life and struggles.
10. Fire and Ice
Written in: 1920
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Summary
This poem says that some people believe the world will end in fire, while others think it will end in ice. The poet thinks fire might be a better choice because of how strong desire can be. But if the world had to end twice, ice would also be a powerful choice because hate is very strong too.
These Robert Frost poems are always best to read. Whereas, you can also write your own poems using an AI poem builder. This tool allows you to make poems on any theme of any length.
Robert Frost quotes
Following are the famous quotes of him:
Quotes about love
- “Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.”
- “But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.”
For nature
- “Nature is always hinting at us. It hints over and over again. And suddenly we take the hint.”
- “How many times it thundered before Franklin took the hint! How many apples fell on Newton's head before he took the hint! Nature is always hinting at us. It hints over and over again. And suddenly we take the hint.”
About life
- “In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.”
- “Most of the change we think we see in life is due to truths being in and out of favor.”
Robert Frost quotes about success
- “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 just gives you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies.”
- “Two roads diverged in a wood and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
Quotes for friendship
- “The nearest friends can go With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.”
- “I don't like to see things on purpose. I like them to soak in. A friend . . . asked me to go to the top of the Empire State Building once, and I told him that he shouldn't treat New York as a sight-it's a feeling, an emotional experience. And the same with every place else.”
List of books of Robert Frost
This is the list of Robert Frost’s famous books:
- A Boy's Will (1913)
- North of Boston (1914)
- Mountain Interval (1916)
- New Hampshire (1923)
- Collected Poems (1930)
Conclusion
Robert Frost's poems are loved by many people because they talk about nature, life, and feelings in ways that are easy to understand. His best poems use simple words to share big ideas.
They make us think about the choices we make, the beauty of nature, and how we treat others. When you read his poems, you might find yourself imagining snowy woods, country roads, or old stone walls.
These poems can help us see the world in new ways and think about what's important in life. Reading Frost's poems can be a fun way to explore your thoughts and feelings.
Why not pick up a book of Robert Frost's poems and start reading? You might discover a new favorite poem that speaks to you.
FAQs
1. What themes are commonly found in Frost’s poetry?
Frost often explores themes such as nature, rural life, personal reflection, and the human condition. His work frequently delves into the complexities of choices, relationships, and the natural world.
2. What is the significance of "The Road Not Taken"?
In "The Road Not Taken," Frost reflects on life’s choices and their impact. The poem is famous for its thoughts of decision-making and the paths we choose, symbolized by two diverging roads in a forest.
3. Why is "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" notable?
This poem is celebrated for its calm depiction of a snowy evening and its meditation on the balance between the beauty of nature and life’s responsibilities. It famously ends with the lines, "And miles to go before I sleep," emphasizing the speaker’s obligations.
4. What does "Mending Wall" explore?
"Mending Wall" examines the concept of boundaries and the often unnecessary nature of walls between people. It questions the traditional belief that "good fences make good neighbors" and suggests that natural forces may challenge such separations.
5. What makes Frost's writing unique?
Frost's writing is distinguished by its use of simple, accessible language to convey deep and complex themes. His ability to capture the essence of human experience through clear imagery and conversational tone makes his poetry both relatable and profound.
