Took a break the other day to read around in the Contemporary volume of the Norton Modern Poetry set, to see what I maybe don't know I don't know. The only one that stood out as more than momentarily moving in a couple hours of random flipping was one I knew already:

Sundays too my father got up early ( Read more... )

34. The Poetry of Robert Frost ( Read more... )

That poem of his somebody found in 2006 ( Read more... )

"Birches" = absurdly packed. Best I can do ( Read more... )

In Frost's next to last notebook, so written I guess in his eighties ( Read more... )

The Demiurge's Laugh, Robert Frost

about science.It was far in the sameness of the wood ( Read more... )

In my many musings on literary folks' argument over Shelley I totally forgot this response to him:

The Lost Follower, Robert Frost

As I have known them passionate and fine ( Read more... )

Wilbur: One evening in the late 1940's I asked Frost whether he was fond of Beddoes, and he said he was; but he said so with what seemed to be a warning glitter in his eye, and I did not pursue the subject.

Borges:

The second time--"And miles to go before I sleep"--we are made to feel that the miles are not only in space but in time, and that "sleep" means "die" or "rest." Had the poet said so in so many words, he would have been far less effective. Because, as I understand it, anything suggested is far more effective than anything laid down. Perhaps ( Read more... )

Closed for Good [1st version], Frost ( Read more... )