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7 de mai. de 2024 · Robert Frost. 1874 –. 1963. 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.
By Robert Frost. My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree. Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill. Beside it, and there may be two or three. Apples I didn't pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
Robert Frost (Bio | Poems) has penned the poem in the first-person point of view. So, it’s a lyric poem. It comprises five verses encapsulated in four stanzas. So, there are a total of 20 lines in the text. Let’s have a look at the rhyme scheme and meter of this piece. Rhyme Scheme. This poem follows a set rhyme scheme.
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.
14 de ago. de 2020 · 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 know that for destruction ice. Is also great. And would suffice. First printed in Harper's Magazine, December 1920. Fire and Ice - Some say the world will end in fire.
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf: Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak. To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers. (Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake. The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows. My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.
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. Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery ...
