Free Text: Poetry: Robert Frost's poem 2

3. The Road Not Taken


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.


4. Spring Pools


These pools that, though in forests, still reflect


The total sky almost without defect,

And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,

Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,

And yet not out by any brook or river,

But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds

To darken nature and be summer woods-

Let them think twice before they use their powers

To blot out and drink up and sweep away

These flowery waters and these watery flowers

From snow that melted only yesterday.



5. Fire And Ice


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.



6. Out, Out


The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard


And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,

Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.

And from there those that lifted eyes could count

Five mountain ranges one behind the other

Under the sunset far into Vermont.

And the saw snarled and rattled,

snarled and rattled,As it ran light, or had to bear a load.

And nothing happened: day was all but done.

Call it a day, I wish they might have said

To please the boy by giving him the half hour

That a boy counts so much when saved from work.

His sister stood beside them in her apron

To tell them "Supper." At that word, the saw,

As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,

Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap --

He must have given the hand. However it was,

Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!

The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,

As he swung toward them holding up the hand

Half in appeal, but half as if to keep

The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all --

Since he was old enough to know, big boy

Doing a man's work, though a child at heart --

He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off --

The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!"

So. But the hand was gone already.

The doctor put him in the dark of ether.


He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.

And then - the watcher at his pulse took fright.

No one believed. They listened at his heart.

Little -- less -- nothing! -- and that ended it.

No more to build on there. And they,

since theyWere not the one dead, turned to their affairs.




Continue.....

































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