Robert Frost at various stages of life.Five Greatest Poems by Robert Frost The Society August 20, 2012 Beauty, Culture, For Educators, Poetry 4 Comments The American poet Robert Frost was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco, CA. He spent his first 40 years mostly unknown, and it wasn’t until after returning to the United States from England—where he had his first two books of poetry published—near the beginning of the first World War, that he was truly recognized by the publishing world as the talented word-smith he was. During his later life he earned four Pulitzer Prizes, and as the unofficial U.S. “poet laureate” he was a special guest at the inauguration of President John F. Kennedy in 1961. He died of surgical complications two years later, at the age of 88. Below are what are generally considered his five greatest poems in no particular order. You may also click here for ten lesser known but great poems by Frost. The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Analysis of “The Road Not Taken” can be found here. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Whose woods these are I think I know His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. Acquainted with the Night I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another sireet, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right I have been one acquainted with the night. Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Biography written by Dusty Grein. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related 4 Responses Batson Sheets November 9, 2017 This poem is very interesting Reply HUBERT CLOLUS December 10, 2018 ThE French translation of The Road Not Taken is a misery of a translation. One line goes: the road had GARMENTS ?????? des vêtements..? It’s just a catastrophe. How can I post the true translation, all rhymed and alexandrined, of this wonderful poem ? A translation you can see before publishing it on the site named Toute la poésie, under my name Hubert Albert Clos Lus?. Reply The Society December 10, 2018 We normally publish translations into English from a foreign language. Nonetheless, we may consider doing the reverse. Please email the better translation to email@example.com and write a brief introductory note explaining the superiority of the translation. Reply Aditi March 17, 2019 These poems are really good. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.