Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)
    Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)
    Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)
    Ebook493 pages4 hours

    Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)

    By Robert Frost

    4.5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    One of the most popular and critically respected American poets of the twentieth century, Robert Frost created a body of poetry that is now celebrated for portraying the life of ordinary men, whilst being rich in its depiction of rural life and subtle in its handling of complex social and philosophical themes. The Delphi Poets Series offers readers the works of literature's finest poets, with superior formatting. This volume presents the pre-1925 poetical works of Robert Frost, with beautiful illustrations and the usual Delphi bonus material. (Version 2)


    * Beautifully illustrated with images relating to Frost's life and works
    * Brief introduction to the life and poetry of Frost
    * Excellent formatting of the poems
    * Special chronological and alphabetical contents tables for the poetry
    * Easily locate the poems you want to read
    * Rare uncollected poems
    * Scholarly ordering of poems into chronological order
    * UPDATED with 2 collections: New Hampshire and Uncollected Poems


    Please note: the collection presents Frost’s poetry up until 1924 to comply with US copyright law.


    CONTENTS:


    The Poetry Collections
    Brief Introduction: Robert Frost
    A Boy’s Will (1915)
    North of Boston (1914)
    Mountain Interval (1916)
    New Hampshire (1923)
    Uncollected Poems


    The Poems
    List of Poems in Chronological Order
    List of Poems in Alphabetical Order


    Please visit www.delphiclassics.com to browse through our range of exciting titles

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDelphi Classics
    Release dateAug 11, 2015
    ISBN9781909496965
    Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)

    Read more from Robert Frost

    Related to Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)

    Titles in the series (100)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Poetry For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Visible Man

      Dec 2, 2019

      Visible Man
      4 min read

    • Article

      The Mirror of Erised: On Death, Harry Potter, and Retreating to Childhood Reads

      Aug 16, 2018

      I’d known Monica 20 years when her sister was killed in a hit-and-run motorcycle accident. We spent our childhoods in a tiny Bay Area town that I left at 14. I only went back to visit twice. In the years between, Monica and I sent each other videos,

      4 min read

    • Article

      Three Authors in Search of Melville

      Sep 25, 2017

      "There are some enterprises in which a careful disorderliness is the true method." The post Three Authors in Search of Melville appeared first on The Millions.

      6 min read

    • Article

      Where The Wych Elm Grows

      Jun 24, 2020

      A SMALL boy stood beside a large, overhanging tree in a Hertfordshire garden in the 1880s. According to folklore, if pigs’ teeth were found in a tree’s trunk, chewing a small piece of its bark could cure toothache. This wych elm, with its few embedde

      4 min read

    • Article

      When the Beasts Spoke: Thoreau and the Sound of America

      Aug 21, 2017

      One of the pleasures of Walls’s Thoreau is seeing how Thoreau’s stubborn refusal to lead an ordinary life turned a bright, but otherwise rather ordinary young man into a great and original artist. The post When the Beasts Spoke: Thoreau and the Soun

      7 min read

    • Article

      The Late Bloomer

      Sep 1, 2023

      “An eccentric woman deserves an eccentric biography.” So writes Willard Spiegelman in this first biography of the poet Amy Clampitt. If there was anything eccentric about the genteel bohemian Amy Clampitt, it was that she was extremely private about

      5 min read

    • Article

      Forever England

      May 5, 2021

      Forever England
      5 min read

    • Article

      Tall Tales

      Jul 9, 2019

      Tall Tales
      19 min read

    • Article

      Hidden Histories

      Nov 25, 2021

      Edgar Mittelholzer was a Guyanese novelist who should be remembered not just for the quality of his writing, but as the earliest recorded writer from the Caribbean to make his living from the profession. I studied Caribbean literature at university,

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Scar On The Hand

      Mar 1, 2022

      The Scar On The Hand
      19 min read

    • Article

      The Prose Poet

      Jun 8, 2022

      Interest in the life and work of Edward Thomas (1878–1917) continues to grow. The past decade has brought Jean Moorcroft Wilson's Edward Thomas: From Adlestrop to Arras (2015), the most substantial biography to date. It followed on from Matthew Holli

      1 min read

    • Article

      The Uses of Laughter

      Aug 11, 2021

      The Uses of Laughter
      19 min read

    • Article

      Samuel Johnson

      Feb 1, 2019

      Samuel Johnson
      2 min read

    • Article

      I See Your True Colours

      Mar 24, 2021

      I See Your True Colours
      4 min read

    • Article

      What A Long, Strange Trip It Was

      Jun 1, 2022

      Born in 1890, Jean Rhys (christened Ella Gwendoline Rees Williams) lived through two world wars and in her long life observed firsthand the many changes wrought by the 20th century. She consorted with the literati of the Lost Generation in 1920s Pari

      6 min read

    • Article

      The Forgotten Poet

      Jun 1, 2022

      The Forgotten Poet
      3 min read

    • Article

      Sculptor, Wrecker And Seducer

      May 27, 2021

      Sculptor, Wrecker And Seducer
      4 min read

    • Article

      Robert Burns

      Nov 30, 2018

      Robert Burns
      2 min read

    • Article

      Samuel Johnson’s Defining Moments

      Feb 17, 2022

      Samuel Johnson was a published author, poet, essayist and biographer by the 1740s, but his career had not taken off or made him money. Certainly the reputation he holds today as a central literary figure of the 18th century, famed for his control of

      3 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)

    4.5/5

    5 ratings4 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 5/5
      Arguably America's premier poet, no poetry collection can be complete with Robert Frost's complete works. It's all here. The great, the whimsical, the daunting, the challenging, the beautiful, the sublime, and even the very few that are best described as ordinary. He is a joy to read over and over again.
    • 4/5
      One of my favorite poets. Singular and philosophical, his poems generate a feeling a oneness with nature; a simple close feeling that somehow evokes a sense of nobility.
    • 5/5
      Only E.A, Robinson can be considered to have written sonnets that match up to Frost's best...
    • 3/5
      frost's poetry is beautiful. this is the definative compilation of his work.

    Book preview

    Delphi Collected Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated) - Robert Frost

    Robert Frost

    (1874-1963)

    Contents

    The Poetry Collections

    Brief Introduction: Robert Frost

    A Boy’s Will (1915)

    North of Boston (1914)

    Mountain Interval (1916)

    New Hampshire (1923)

    Uncollected Poems

    The Poems

    List of Poems in Chronological Order

    List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

    The Delphi Classics Catalogue

    © Delphi Classics 2020

    Version 2

    Browse the entire series…

    Robert Frost

    By Delphi Classics, 2020

    COPYRIGHT

    Robert Frost - Delphi Poets Series (US version)

    First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Delphi Classics.

    © Delphi Classics, 2020.

    All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.

    ISBN: 9781909496965

    Delphi Classics

    is an imprint of

    Delphi Publishing Ltd

    Hastings, East Sussex

    United Kingdom

    Contact: sales@delphiclassics.com

    www.delphiclassics.com

    NOTE

    WHEN READING POETRY on an eReader, it is advisable to use a small font size and landscape mode, which will allow the lines of poetry to display correctly.

    The Poetry Collections

    Late nineteenth century San Francisco — Frost’s birthplace. The house no longer stands.

    A bird’s-eye view of San Francisco in 1874, the year Frost was born

    A memorial plaque close to the site of Frost’s birthplace

    Frost in his late teens

    Brief Introduction: Robert Frost

    THE AMERICAN POET Robert Frost was born in San Francisco, March 26, 1875. His father was a New England teacher and later became an editor of the San Francisco Evening Bulletin, later merging into the San Francisco Examiner. After his death on May 5, 1885, the family moved across the country to Lawrence, Massachusetts, under the patronage of William Frost, Sr., the poet’s grandfather, who was an overseer at a New England mill. Frost’s mother, who was of Scottish descent, joined the Swedenborgian church and had her son baptised there, although he chose to leave it as an adult.

    Although he is now famous for his portrayal of rural life in his poetry, Frost grew up in the city, where he published his first poem in his school’s magazine, before graduating from Lawrence High School in 1892. After attending Dartmouth College for two months, Frost returned home to teach and to work at various jobs, including delivering newspapers and working in a factory as an arclight carbon filament changer, as well as aiding his mother in teaching her own class of unruly boys. Nevertheless, he did not enjoy these jobs, feeling his true calling was literature.

    In 1894 Frost sold his first poem, My Butterfly. An Elegy, which was published in the November 8, 1894, edition of the New York Independent for $15, an impressive amount at that time. Proud of his accomplishment, he proposed marriage to Elinor Miriam White, his classmate and co-valedictorian at Lawrence High School, though she refused, wishing to finish her university education before they married. Frost then went on an excursion to the Great Dismal Swamp in Virginia and asked Elinor again upon his return. Having graduated, she agreed and they were married at Lawrence, Massachusetts on December 19, 1895.

    Frost attended Harvard University from 1897 to 1899, but he had to leave due to illness and halfway through the spring semester of his second year, Dean Briggs released him without prejudice, lamenting the loss of so good a student. Shortly before his death, Frost’s grandfather William purchased a farm for him and Elinor in Derry, New Hampshire, where the poet worked for nine years, while writing early in the mornings and producing many of the poems that would later become famous. However, his farming proved unsuccessful and he returned to education as an English teacher at New Hampshire’s Pinkerton Academy from 1906 to 1911, before joining the New Hampshire Normal School in Plymouth, New Hampshire.

    In 1912 Frost sailed with his family to Great Britain, settling first in Beaconsfield, a small town outside London. A Boy’s Will, his first book of poetry, was published the following year. In England he made some important acquaintances, including the critic and aspiring poet, Edward Thomas, a member of the group known as the Dymock Poets, T.E. Hulme and Ezra Pound. Although Pound would become the first American to write a favourable review of Frost’s work, the latter would later resent Pound’s attempts to manipulate his American prosody.

    As World War I began, Frost returned to America in 1915 and bought a farm in Franconia, New Hampshire, where he launched a determined career in writing, teaching and lecturing. This family homestead served as the Frosts’ summer home until 1938 and it is now maintained as The Frost Place, a museum and poetry conference site. Over intervals from 1916 to 1938, Frost taught English at Amherst College in Massachusetts, notably encouraging his students to account for the many diverse sounds and intonations of the spoken English language in their writing. He called his colloquial approach to language the sound of sense, which he also applied to many of his verses at this time. Success soon followed and in 1924, after the publication of New Hampshire: A Poem with Notes and Grace Notes, he won the first of what would later be several Pulitzer Prizes.

    For forty-two years Frost spent almost every summer and autumn teaching at the Bread Loaf School of English of Middlebury College, at the Vermont campus, where he is credited as a major influence upon the development of the school and its writing programs. The college now owns and maintains his former Ripton farmstead as a national historic site near the Bread Loaf campus. In 1921 Frost accepted a fellowship teaching post at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, where he resided until 1927 when he returned to teach at Amherst and he was awarded a lifetime appointment at the Michigan University as a Fellow in Letters. Throughout his life, although never graduating from college, Frost received over forty honorary degrees, including degrees from Princeton, Oxford and Cambridge universities and in 1960, he received the United States Congressional Gold Medal.

    Nevertheless, Frost’s personal life was plagued with grief and loss. When he was eleven, his father had died suddenly of tuberculosis, leaving the family with just eight dollars and Frost’s mother had died of cancer in 1900. In 1920, Frost had to commit his younger sister Jeanie to a mental hospital, where she died nine years later. Mental illness apparently ran in Frost’s family, as both he and his mother suffered from depression, and his daughter Irma was committed to a hospital in 1947. Frost’s wife, Elinor, also experienced bouts of depression and only two of their six children outlived their father. So in spite of all his literary successes, Frost suffered many personal misfortunes throughout his life.

    In 1961, at the age of 86, Frost was honoured when asked to write and recite a poem for President John F. Kennedy’s inauguration. His sight now failing, he was not able to see the words in the sunlight and chose instead to read one of his poems, The Gift Outright, which he had committed to memory. On January 29, 1963, Frost died from complications related to prostate surgery. He was survived by his two daughters, Lesley and Irma, and his ashes are interred in a family plot in Bennington, Vermont.

    Frost’s poetry is celebrated for exploring the beauty of the natural world and the life of ordinary men, revealing the influence of Thomas Hardy and W. B. Yeats. Frost employs rhythms of actual speech, whilst representing a wide range of human experience in his poems. He is also highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech. His poetry frequently employed settings from rural life in New England and in early twentieth century America, using his often simple appearing verses to examine complex social and philosophical themes. Nonetheless, Frost’s poetry also presents pessimistic and menacing undertones that are often not recognised on a first reading. Exploring fundamental questions of existence, his poetry, as particularly demonstrated in his most severe collection, North of Boston, depicts with chilling starkness the loneliness of the individual in an indifferent world.

    A popular and much-anthologised poet, Frost won distinction not only as a poet but as a much loved teacher and guiding educator. His literary achievements, receiving no less than four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry, as well as his numerous other accolades and honorary degrees, give witness to what is the continuing growing legend of Robert Frost.

    Elinor Miriam White and Robert Frost at the time of their marriage, 1895

    The New Hampshire home of the Frost family from 1915 to 1920. It was here that Frost began his joint literary and teaching career in earnest.

    Frost, 1910

    Edward Thomas (1878-1917), a British poet, essayist, and novelist. During his time in England, from 1912 to 1915, Frost became close friends with Thomas and they took many walks together. After Frost returned to New Hampshire in 1915, he sent Thomas an advance copy of ‘The Road Not Taken’. Thomas took the poem seriously, perhaps inspiring his decision to enlist in World War I.

    Bread Loaf School of English of Middlebury College, at Ripton, Vermont, where, from 1921 to 1963, Frost spent almost every summer and autumn teaching.

    Frost at Bread Loaf Campus, 1939

    Frost, 1941

    A Boy’s Will (1915)

    CONTENTS

    Into My Own

    Ghost House

    My November Guest

    Love and a Question

    A Late Walk

    Stars

    Storm Fear

    Wind and Window Flower

    To the Thawing Wind (audio)

    A Prayer in Spring

    Flower-gathering

    Rose Pogonias

    Asking for Roses

    Waiting Afield at Dusk

    In a Vale

    A Dream Pang

    In Neglect

    The Vantage Point

    Mowing

    Going for Water

    Revelation

    The Trial by Existence

    In Equal Sacrifice

    The Tuft of Flowers

    Spoils of the Dead

    Pan with Us

    The Demiurge’s Laugh

    Now Close the Windows

    A Line-storm Song

    October

    My Butterfly

    Reluctance

    The first edition

    The first edition’s title page

    Frost, close to the time of publication of his first poetry collection

    Into My Own

    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 thought was true.

    Ghost House

    I DWELL in a lonely house I know

    That vanished many a summer ago,

    And left no trace but the cellar walls,

    And a cellar in which the daylight falls,

    And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

    O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield

    The woods come back to the mowing field;

    The orchard tree has grown one copse

    Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;

    The footpath down to the well is healed.

    I dwell with a strangely aching heart

    In that vanished abode there far apart

    On that disused and forgotten road

    That has no dust-bath now for the toad.

    Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;

    The whippoorwill is coming to shout

    And hush and cluck and flutter about:

    I hear him begin far enough away

    Full many a time to say his say

    Before he arrives to say it out.

    It is under the small, dim, summer star.

    I know not who these mute folk are

    Who share the unlit place with me —

    Those stones out under the low-limbed tree

    Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

    They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,

    Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad, —

    With none among them that ever sings,

    And yet, in view of how many things,

    As sweet companions as might be had.

    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.

    Her pleasure will not let me stay.

    She talks and I am fain to list:

    She’s glad the birds are gone away,

    She’s glad her simple worsted gray

    Is silver now with clinging mist.

    The desolate, deserted trees,

    The faded earth, the heavy sky,

    The beauties she so truly sees,

    She thinks I have no eye for these,

    And vexes me for reason why.

    Not yesterday I learned to know

    The love of bare November days

    Before the coming of the snow,

    But it were vain to tell her so,

    And they are better for her praise.

    Love and a Question

    A STRANGER came to the door at eve,

    And he spoke the bridegroom fair.

    He bore a green-white stick in his hand,

    And, for all burden, care.

    He asked with the eyes more than the lips

    For a shelter for the night,

    And he turned and looked at the road afar

    Without a window light.

    The bridegroom came forth into the porch

    With, ‘Let us look at the sky,

    And question what of the night to be,

    Stranger, you and I.’

    The woodbine leaves littered the yard,

    The woodbine berries were blue,

    Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;

    ‘Stranger, I wish I knew.’

    Within, the bride in the dusk alone

    Bent over the open fire,

    Her face rose-red with the glowing coal

    And the thought of the heart’s desire.

    The bridegroom looked at the weary road,

    Yet saw but her within,

    And wished her heart in a case of gold

    And pinned with a silver pin.

    The bridegroom thought it little to give

    A dole of bread, a purse,

    A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,

    Or for the rich a curse;

    But whether or not a man was asked

    To mar the love of two

    By harboring woe in the bridal house,

    The bridegroom wished he knew.

    A Late Walk

    WHEN I go up through the mowing field,

    The headless aftermath,

    Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,

    Half closes the garden path.

    And when I come to the garden ground,

    The whir of sober birds

    Up from the tangle of withered weeds

    Is sadder than any words.

    A tree beside the wall stands bare,

    But a leaf that lingered brown,

    Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,

    Comes softly rattling down.

    I end not far from my going forth

    By picking the faded blue

    Of the last remaining aster flower

    To carry again to you.

    Stars

    HOW countlessly they congregate

    O’er our tumultuous snow,

    Which flows in shapes as tall as trees

    When wintry winds do blow! —

    As if with keenness for our fate,

    Our faltering few steps on

    To white rest, and a place of rest

    Invisible at dawn, —

    And yet with neither love nor hate,

    Those stars like some snow-white

    Minerva’s snow-white marble eyes

    Without the gift of sight.

    Storm Fear

    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.

    Wind and Window Flower

    LOVERS, forget your love,

    And list to the love of these,

    She a window flower,

    And he a winter breeze.

    When the frosty window veil

    Was melted down at noon,

    And the cagèd yellow bird

    Hung over her in tune,

    He marked her through the pane,

    He could not help but mark,

    And only passed her by,

    To come again at dark.

    He was a winter wind,

    Concerned with ice and snow,

    Dead weeds and unmated birds,

    And little of love could know.

    But he sighed upon the sill,

    He gave the sash a shake,

    As witness all within

    Who lay that night awake.

    Perchance he half prevailed

    To win her for the flight

    From the firelit looking-glass

    And warm stove-window light.

    But the flower leaned aside

    And thought of naught to say,

    And morning found the breeze

    A hundred miles away.

    To the Thawing Wind (audio)

    COME with rain, O loud Southwester!

    Bring the singer, bring the nester;

    Give the buried flower a dream;

    Make the settled snow-bank steam;

    Find the brown beneath the white;

    But whate’er you do to-night,

    Bathe my window, make it flow,

    Melt it as the ices go;

    Melt the glass and leave the sticks

    Like a hermit’s crucifix;

    Burst into my narrow stall;

    Swing the picture on the wall;

    Run the rattling pages o’er;

    Scatter poems on the floor;

    Turn the poet out of door.

    A Prayer in Spring

    OH, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;

    And give us not to think so far away

    As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

    All simply in the springing of the year.

    Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

    Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;

    And make us happy in the happy bees,

    The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

    And make us happy in the darting bird

    That suddenly above the bees is heard,

    The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,

    And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

    For this is love and nothing else is love,

    The which it is reserved for God above

    To sanctify to

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1