my favourite poet

'A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.' You must be wondering who said this but i am going to ell you that he is the poet i am going to introduce to all of you today.

Robert frost was an American poet who was highly regarded for hisrealistic depictions of rural
life.he was borned in San Franci on 26 march , 1874.His father passed when he was eleven .after father died, his family moved to New England . his mother died15 years later and his relatives suffer from various disease.With both parents as teachers,he was exposed to the world of books at a young age .married Elinor White in 1894 .he faced poverty ,he and Elinor had four children .
his first poem appeared in a New York periodical in 1894 .When he died, his son committed suicide, and his daughter had a mental breakdown.

you must be wondering why i liked him.The reason is simple,although both his parents died,he did not give up and continued to work hard.On the other hand,most people will only grief over the death and give up themselves.Although he faced poverty at a particular period of time,he did not let go his dreams and continued striving to write poems

Some of his books
'The Road Not Taken", first published in Mountain Interval in 1916, is one of Frost’s most well-known poems.“The poem relies on a metaphor in which the journey through life is compared to a journey on a road. The speaker of the poem must choose one path instead of another. Although the paths look equally attractive, the speaker knows that his choice at this moment may have a significant influence on his future.(in my previous post)


Minor bird(robert frost)
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.

A time to talk(robert frost)
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.


Infomation from www.yahoo.com.sg and www.poemhunter.com