View allAll Photos Tagged robertfrost
www.youtube.com/watch?v=469qkmSyzkc
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Robert Frost (1874-1963)
Fern leaf taken at King's Domain, Melbourne.
" Nature's first green is gold "
Robert Frost.
Many thanks for your visit, comments, invites and faves....it is always appreciated...
Peaceful Saturday
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
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.
♫ November ♫ - The Wilderness of Manitoba
ᑎOTᕼIᑎG GOᒪᗪ ᑕᗩᑎ ᔕTᗩY
ᗷY ᖇOᗷEᖇT ᖴᖇOᔕT
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
note: I had fun painting this piece, just throwing colors on my digital canvas and moving them around. Hope you enjoy ♥
I thought that the words of Robert Frost was very fitting for a stamp..And Miles To Go ...here is the rest of the poem enjoy.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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.
In Explore ⭐️
Robert Frost
In Stacksteads
Lancashire
A 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 had rued.
See my "About" page on Flickr for the link to support my efforts... just the price of a cup of coffee is appreciated. Thank you. www.flickr.com/people/jax_chile/
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Flores de Santa Gemita - 08292021-7
In Explore 🌟
To my Flickr friends
A big daisy sitting through the parasol hole in an outdoor table…. Just because it can.
Have a lovely day!
Stacksteads
Lancashire
FLOWER - GATHERING
Robert Frost
I left you in the morning,
And in the morning glow,
You walked a way beside me
To make me sad to go.
Do you know me in the gloaming,
Gaunt and dusty grey with roaming?
Are you dumb because you know me not,
Or dumb because you know?
All for me? And not a question
For the faded flowers gay
That could take me from beside you
For the ages of a day?
They are yours, and be the measure
Of their worth for you to treasure,
The measure of the little while
That I’ve been long away.
“Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.'’ From Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall”
Another backroad vision, with thanks to Robert Frost for the title....
“Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn7TwIDY3xQ
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew--
Only more sure of all I though was true.
by Robert Frost
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwZNcb9aiBg
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 marked 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
Since hitting the road from western shore
more than a decade has passed me bye.
A journeyed traveler on a life long tour
to reach east coast dawn, soul will soar
unto the heavens with a twinkling eye.
This vagabond life can I transcend?
To give up sleeping beneath the stars
Life on life’s terms does not pretend
This journey fades as I near the end
The long sleep under Venus and Mars
from Weary Traveler,
by Robert Frost
Do not use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without my explicit permission © 2016 Dex Horton Photography - all rights reserved.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dZj17rP5Jc
When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow
The lowest chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
'Come out! Come out!'-
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road ungraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away
And my heart owns a doubt
Whether 'tis in us to arise with day
And save ourselves unaided.
Robert Frost
“Forgive me my nonsense, as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.”
- Robert Frost
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=291ET6Py6H8
HAPPY TALK – CAPTAIN SENSIBLE – don't forget to sing-along! ; 0)
Happy new week everyone! : 0)
NONSENSE RHYME – Edward Lear-esque
Just taking a pew
drinking in the view
nothing else to do
just chillaxing
I'm all brand new
straight out of the blue
waiting here for you
just relaxing
I thought I heard a pigeon coo
s'pose it could've been a cuckoo too
no I didn't say a cockatoo
oh! how distracting
Do you think you ever knew
if The Taming Of The Shrew
was as good as Much Ado
About Nothing except the acting
I thought I saw a grasshopper
leapfrogging and come a-cropper
run for your life here comes a copper
his truncheon raised like Punch's
Never mind the seaside show
no time for tea; it's time to go
ice-cream melts like Winter's snow
a poor choice for packed lunches
I hope you like this nonsense rhyme
made up for you; just killing time
being happy is not a crime
but tell that to the Grunches!
- AP - Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author
Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HR-r4RoffcY
Why make so much of fragmentary blue
In here and there a bird, or butterfly,
Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,
When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?
Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)
Though some savants make earth include the sky
And blue so far above us comes so high,
It only gives our wish for blue a whet.
Robert Frost
"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."
- - Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening 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;
Robert Frost
Ashland, Oregon has a woodland-rich, steep-walled valley that contains Lithia Park. In the autumn, many of the trees display brilliantly colored leaves. The Japanese Garden is especially rich in color in the fall. This photo is one example. en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lithia_Park
www.youtube.com/watch?v=T60NaODHAEU
Once on the kind of day called “weather breeder,”
When the heat slowly hazes and the sun
By its own power seems to be undone,
I was half boring through, half climbing through
A swamp of cedar. Choked with oil of cedar
And scurf of plants, and weary and over-heated,
And sorry I ever left the road I knew,
I paused and rested on a sort of hook
That had me by the coat as good as seated,
And since there was no other way to look,
Looked up toward heaven, and there against the blue,
Stood over me a resurrected tree,
A tree that had been down and raised again
A barkless spectre. He had halted too,
As if for fear of treading upon me.
I saw the strange position of his hands
Up at his shoulders, dragging yellow strands
Of wire with something in it from men to men.
“You here?” I said. “Where aren’t you nowadays
And what’s the news you carry ––if you know?
And tell me where you’re off for ––Montreal?
Me? I’m not off for anywhere at all.
Sometimes I wander out of beaten ways
Half looking for the orchid Calypso.”
by Robert Frost
One of everyone’s favorite poems, and my plan for the next year!
Happy New Year and Happy Sliders Sunday
This day’s fiery finish along with the incessant, sad, pandemic news made me think of this Robert Frost poem. For my money this wretched excuse of a year can’t end soon enough. : ((
Fire and Ice
- - by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Better viewed LARGE.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmGhuR1uvUU
He halted in the wind, and -- what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.
"Oh, that's the Paradise-in-bloom," I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
had we but in us to assume in march
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.
We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech clinging to its last year's leaves.
by Robert Frost
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.
Robert Frost
Cagle's Chasm
Marion Co. Tennessee
Main pit depth 186'
Natural lighting
It had been overcast all day and there was a very light rain; it turned into a fine mist in the air just before I snapped this image.
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
Robert Frost
In Stacksteads
Lancashire
I didn’t know the poem, my friend Bill Irvine made me aware of it
Fire and ice
BY ROBERT FROST
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxG-BYtVVuE
"I dream upon the opposing lights of the hour,
Preventing shadow until the moon prevail;
I dream upon the nighthawks peopling heaven,
Or plunging headlong with fierce twang afar;
And on the bat's mute antics, who would seem
Dimly to have made out my secret place,
Only to lose it when he pirouettes,
On the last swallow's sweep; and on the rasp
In the abyss of odor and rustle at my back,
That, silenced by my advent, finds once more,
After an interval, his instrument,
And tries once--twice--and thrice if I be there;
And on the worn book of old-golden song
I brought not here to read, it seems, but hold
And freshen in this air of withering sweetness;
But on the memor of one absent, most,
For whom these lines when they shall greet her eye."
Robert Frost
“Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.” Robert Frost
Snapseed, Juxtaposer, Picsart
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvkZoBP-_v0
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
Robert Frost
Cuz I can feel the rivers Winding through the lands Two lines, and a poet Like a kind old rye You know we could talk in that language Only we understand But you know.. It's a long way down You know it's a long way down Feels like a long way down
♫ Long Way Down - youtu.be/9tkhGP2RpIg ♫
Taken at maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Mishiland/138/130/1167
Robert Frost
At Towneley park
Burnley
Lancashire
Tree at my window
ROBERT FROST
Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.
Nothing Gold Can Stay Poem by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzuA9E7JstQ
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew--
Only more sure of all I though was true.
By Robert Frost
"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
- - a poem by Robert Frost
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeSozSloOF4
OUT through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'
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 and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
Robert Frost
Best viewed large.
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.
~ The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep . . . (Robert Frost, with an Allusion to Dante)
HDR
Thanks for Viewing.
Posted for the "Happy Caturday" poetry theme.
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.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UepJfULtQUk
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.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths--and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
Robert Frost