Robert Frost Quotes - Page 16
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
And nothing to look backward to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope.
But I may be one who does not care Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Now close the windows and hush all the fields: If the trees must, let them silently toss.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orch-ard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night.
The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.
A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may not be worried into being.
My definition of poetry (if I were forced to give one) would be this: words that have become deeds.
The Moon for all her light and grace Has never learned to know her place.
Two such as you with such a master speed Cannot be parted nor be swept away
For I have had too much Of apple-picking:I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired.