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A Boy’s Will
A Boy’s Will
A Boy’s Will
Ebook50 pages26 minutes

A Boy’s Will

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About this ebook

A Boy’s Will' is the poetry collection that put the world on notice that Robert Frost was going to be an important Poet. His early poems were already exploring the themes and subject matter that would make him America’s best known poet. Simply superb.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 19, 2018
ISBN9781515418757
A Boy’s Will
Author

Robert Frost

Robert Frost (1874–1963) was a poet who was much admired for his depictions of rural life in New England, command of American colloquial speech, and realistic verse portraying ordinary people in everyday situations.

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Rating: 3.8749999083333333 out of 5 stars
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  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    Early Frost---with the weakness of late 19th Century "poetic diction," There are glimmers of what great poetry that is to come. If you are studying his development, this is a good collection to see where Frost began, Otherwise, move to later collections for the good stuff.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Robert Frost is much more than a yankee deciding on which road to take. I liked this one a lot.

Book preview

A Boy’s Will - Robert Frost

PART I

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

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