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The document contains three poems by Robert Frost, exploring themes of choices, nature, and the passage of time. The first poem reflects on the significance of choices made in life, while the second contemplates the beauty and solitude of a snowy evening. The third poem discusses the futility of labor in nature, emphasizing the contrast between effort and the minimal rewards it yields.

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ZEKRA ALWADEI
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55 views3 pages

PDF Document 3

The document contains three poems by Robert Frost, exploring themes of choices, nature, and the passage of time. The first poem reflects on the significance of choices made in life, while the second contemplates the beauty and solitude of a snowy evening. The third poem discusses the futility of labor in nature, emphasizing the contrast between effort and the minimal rewards it yields.

Uploaded by

ZEKRA ALWADEI
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd

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.
Robert Frost
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.

Robert Frost
Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise


Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.

But the mountains I raise


Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.

I may load and unload


Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight,


And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use.

But a crop is a crop,


And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?
Robert Frost

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