The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
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.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house in 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.
Dust of Snow by Robert Frost
The way a crow
shook down on me
the dust of snow
from a hemlock tree
has given my heart
a change of mood,
and saved some part
of a day I rued.
Fireflies in the Garden by Robert Frost
Here come the real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(and they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.