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Snow – Poem by Robert Frost

The three stood listening to a fresh accessOf wind that caught against the house a moment,Gulped snow, and then blew free again-the ColesDressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep,Meserve belittled in the great skin coat he wore. Meserve was first to speak. He pointed backwardOver his shoulder with his

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Wild Grapes – Poem by Robert Frost

What tree may not the fig be gathered from?The grape may not be gathered from the birch?It’s all you know the grape, or know the birch.As a girl gathered from the birch myselfEqually with my weight in grapes, one autumn,I ought to know what tree the grape is fruit of.I

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Riders – Poem by Robert Frost

The surest thing there is is we are riders,And though none too successful at it, guiders,Through everything presented, land and tideAnd now the very air, of what we ride. What is this talked-of mystery of birthBut being mounted bareback on the earth?We can just see the infant up astride,His small

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An Empty Threat – Poem by Robert Frost

I stay;But it isn’t as ifThere wasn’t always Hudson’s BayAnd the fur trade,A small skiffAnd a paddle blade. I can just see my tent pegged,And me on the floor,Cross-legged,And a trapper looking in at the doorWith furs to sell. His name’s Joe,Alias John,And between what he doesn’t knowAnd won’t tellAbout

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The Housekeeper – Poem by Robert Frost

I let myself in at the kitchen door.‘It’s you,’ she said. ‘I can’t get up. Forgive meNot answering your knock. I can no moreLet people in than I can keep them out.I’m getting too old for my size, I tell them.My fingers are about all I’ve the use ofSo’s to

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New Hampshire – Poem by Robert Frost

I met a lady from the South who said(You won’t believe she said it, but she said it):‘None of my family ever worked, or hadA thing to sell.’ I don’t suppose the workMuch matters. You may work for all of me.I’ve seen the time I’ve had to work myself.The having

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The Kitchen Chimney – Poem by Robert Frost

Builder, in building the little house,In every way you may please yourself;But please please me in the kitchen chimney:Don’t build me a chimney upon a shelf. However far you must go for bricks,Whatever they cost a-piece or a pound,But me enough for a full-length chimney,And build the chimney clear from

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The Generations of Men – Poem by Robert Frost

A governor it was proclaimed this time,When all who would come seeking in New HampshireAncestral memories might come together.And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow,A rock-strewn town where farming has fallen off,And sprout-lands flourish where the axe has gone.Someone had literally run to earthIn an old cellar hole

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The Pauper Witch of Grafton – Poem by Robert Frost

NOW that they’ve got it settled whose I be,I’m going to tell them something they won’t like:They’ve got it settled wrong, and I can prove it.Flattered I must be to have two towns fightingTo make a present of me to each other.They don’t dispose me, either one of them,To spare

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