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4.05 AVERAGE
4.05 AVERAGE
I don't really know much about poetry. I barely remember talking about it in English class in high school. Still, Robert Frost's poems are widely read and well regarded.
I enjoy how his poems show a view of rural New England in the early 20th century, and how many times he focuses on the simple things.
I'm probably going to have to come back to this later in life and read it again to really get a true sense of what it's about though.
I enjoy how his poems show a view of rural New England in the early 20th century, and how many times he focuses on the simple things.
I'm probably going to have to come back to this later in life and read it again to really get a true sense of what it's about though.
ah, when to the heart of man
was it ever less than a treason
to go with the drift of things,
to yield with a grace to reason,
and bow and accept the end
of a love or a season?
was it ever less than a treason
to go with the drift of things,
to yield with a grace to reason,
and bow and accept the end
of a love or a season?
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.
That was a gleam of light amidst a night of few memorable lines, short stories in verse and indifference.
May 03, 19
* Later on my blog.
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.
That was a gleam of light amidst a night of few memorable lines, short stories in verse and indifference.
May 03, 19
* Later on my blog.
Robert Frost and I don't click the way I hoped we would. But I did connect with "Birches," "A Time to Talk," "The Hill Wife," and "The Bonfire."
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
I really enjoyed this! I will say the writing style was a little hard to get into at first, but I loved a lot of the poems!
I didn't realize that Robert Frost had written so many long story poems.
challenging
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
5 stars:
The Tuft of Flowers
Good Hours
The Road Not Taken
The Bonfire
The Exposed Nest
The Sound of Trees
The Tuft of Flowers
Good Hours
The Road Not Taken
The Bonfire
The Exposed Nest
The Sound of Trees
We all know the poem by heart.
But these illustrations?
Do yourself a favor and check this one out.
See if you don’t read and reread it over and over again.
And if you’re a teacher, just try not to tear up when you share this title with your kids.
Because they’ll like it, but you and Robert Frost are trying to tell them something they just aren’t ready to comprehend.
And that’s the funny thing about life, isn’t it?
We have to live it, be bruised by it, before we can see the beauty of that map and the mystical way in which the roads converged.
But these illustrations?
Do yourself a favor and check this one out.
See if you don’t read and reread it over and over again.
And if you’re a teacher, just try not to tear up when you share this title with your kids.
Because they’ll like it, but you and Robert Frost are trying to tell them something they just aren’t ready to comprehend.
And that’s the funny thing about life, isn’t it?
We have to live it, be bruised by it, before we can see the beauty of that map and the mystical way in which the roads converged.
I'm not very good with poetry, but this got me to a place where I enjoyed it and looked forward to reading it, even if I don't understand it very well.