Category Archives: frost

Nameless: Some Thoughts on Frost’s “The Gift Outright,” for July 4th

The Gift Outright Robert Frost The land was ours before we were the land’s. She was our land more than a hundred years Before we were her people. She was ours In Massachusetts, in Virginia, But we were England’s, still colonials, Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, Possessed by what we now no more …

July 3, 2009 – 7:24 pm | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Comments (9)

My November Guest

Just contrasting moods with Frost. Robert Frost, “My November Guest:” My Sorrow, when she’s here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree; She walks the sodden pasture lane. The trees are bare, but not quite withered yet. It is damp …

November 26, 2008 – 5:25 pm | By ashok | Posted in frost, personal, poetry | Comments (3)

Entry #500: The Search for Truth – On Frost’s "For Once, Then, Something"

For Once, Then, Something Robert Frost Others taught me with having knelt at well-curbs Always wrong to the light, so never seeing Deeper down in the well than where the water Gives me back in a shining surface picture Me myself in the summer heaven godlike Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud-puffs. …

April 20, 2008 – 9:15 pm | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Tagged , | Comments (0)

An Introduction To Emo Rambling: On Frost’s "The Oven Bird"

The Oven Bird Robert Frost There is a singer everyone has heard, Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again. He says that leaves are old and that for flowers Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten. He says the early petal-fall is past When pear and …

January 24, 2008 – 9:19 am | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Tagged , | Comments (2)

Notes On Frost’s "Hyla Brook"

Hyla Brook Robert Frost By June our brook’s run out of song and speed. Sought for much after that, it will be found Either to have gone groping underground (And taken with it all the Hyla breed That shouted in the mist a month ago, Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)— Or …

June 5, 2007 – 1:11 am | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Tagged , , | Comments (2)

Waiting To Watch The Water Clear: On Robert Frost’s "The Pasture"

The Pasture Robert Frost I’m going out to clean the pasture spring; I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calf That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young, It totters when …

June 4, 2007 – 2:38 am | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Tagged , , | Comments (2)

Man and the Angels: On Frost’s "Bond and Free"

Bond and Free Robert Frost Love has earth to which she clings With hills and circling arms about – Wall within wall to shut fear out. But Thought has need of no such things, For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings. On snow and sand and turf, I see Where Love has left a …

May 25, 2007 – 9:40 am | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Tagged , , | Comments (1)

A Review of Frost’s Scribblings Becomes An Excuse for Reflection

Everything below is really speculative, and subject to change. I just wanted to try and get at what could be so “terrifying” about Frost. Oh, this is from a while back, on Sophocles. This is just amazing, amazing stuff. I wish I could write like this. From the article above: “The difference between expense and …

February 19, 2007 – 12:30 am | By ashok | Posted in blogging, frost, poetry | Comments (1)

On Frost’s "Meeting and Passing"

Meeting and Passing Robert Frost As I went down the hill along the wall There was a gate I had leaned at for the view And had just turned from when I first saw you As you came up the hill. We met. But all We did that day was mingle great and small Footprints …

October 17, 2006 – 7:26 pm | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Tagged , , , | Comments (6)

On Frost’s "Mowing:" Death, Love and Dante

Mowing Robert Frost There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I know not well myself; Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, Something perhaps, about the lack of sound– And that was why it …

August 14, 2006 – 6:08 pm | By ashok | Posted in frost, poetry | Tagged , , , | Comments (2)