Thursday, March 27, 2014

Two Poems By Robert Frost

The Frost Farm, Derry, New Hampshire

ON THE SALE OF MY FARM

Well-away and be it so,
To the stranger let them go.
Even cheerfully I yield
Pasture, orchard, mowing-field,
Yea and wish him all the gain
I required of them in vain.
Yea and I can yield him house,
Barn, and shed, with rat and mouse
To dispute possession of.
These I can unlearn to love.
Since I cannot help it? Good!
Only be it understood,
It shall be no trespassing
If I come again some spring
In the grey disguise of years,
Seeking ache of memory here.

"On the Sale of My Farm" by Robert Frost
from Collected Poems, Prose, & Plays.
© The Library of America, 1995. 


Image by Katy Elliot

A PRAYER IN SPRING

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
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 what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.

"A Prayer in Spring" by Robert Frost
from Collected Poems, Prose, & Plays.
© The Library of America, 1995.

“I kept farm, so to speak for nearly ten years,” Frost wrote a friend. “I can see now that I went away to save myself and fix myself before I measured my strength against all creation.”

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