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    Mountain Interval
    Mountain Interval
    Mountain Interval
    Ebook77 pages1 hour

    Mountain Interval

    By Robert Frost

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    About this ebook

    Mountain Interval' includes two of Robert Frost’s best known and most powerful poems: “A Road Not Taken” and “Out Out—.” This collection helped solidify Robert Frost’s position as the greatest American poet of all time.

    "Mr. Frost is an honest writer, writing from himself, from his own knowledge and emotion . . . he is quite consciously and definitely putting New England life into verse." —Ezra Pound

    "The best poetry written in America in a long time."— William Butler Yeats
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWilder Publications, Inc.
    Release dateJan 19, 2018
    ISBN9781515418771
    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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    Reviews for Mountain Interval

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    • 2/5
      I'm utterly indifferent to his subject matter, and his poems evoke no genuine feeling from me.
    • 4/5
      Favorites in this collection include "The Road Not Taken," "A Patch of Old Snow," and "Birches."
    • 4/5
      Frost is one of the few great poets who can write narrative verse, including conversation, and have it work both as story and as verse. This collection is held together by a theme of the relationship between humans, each other, and the natural world. There is cruelty, often unintentional or unknowing. But there is beauty in the intersection and the conflicts that result.

      "The Road Not Taken" leaves its ambiguous ending hanging there: is it celebration, regret, or is it a facile narrator missing his own point? And in "Snow" the complexities of human feelings swirl with the storm that challenges Meserve to heroism or is it foolishness, or is it love for his wife?

      Frost has often been underestimated, more by his fans than by some post-modernists who seem to loathe his writing. This collection bears rereading and savoring for its depths.
    • 2/5
      I'm sorry, but I just don't like Robert Frost that much. Aside from The Road Not Taken and Mending Wall, I don't care for his poetry.

    Book preview

    Mountain Interval - Robert Frost

    Mountain Interval

    by Robert Frost

    ©2017 Wilder Publications

    Cover image © Can Stock Photo / Kotenko

    All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except for brief quotations for review purposes only.

    ISBN 13: 978-1-5154-1877-1

    Table of Contents

    The Road Not Taken

    Christmas Trees

    An Old Man’s Winter Night

    The Exposed Nest

    A Patch of Old Snow

    In the Home Stretch

    The Telephone

    Meeting and Passing

    Hyla Brook

    The Oven Bird

    Bond and Free

    Birches

    Pea Brush

    Putting in the Seed

    A Time to Talk

    The Cow in Apple Time

    An Encounter

    Range-Finding

    The Hill Wife

    The Bonfire

    A Girl’s Garden

    Locked Out

    The Last Word of a Bluebird

    Out, Out—

    Brown’s Descent

    The Gum-Gatherer

    The Line-Gang

    The Vanishing Red

    Snow

    The Sound of the Trees

    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.

    Christmas Trees

    (A Christmas Circular Letter)

    The city had withdrawn into itself

    And left at last the country to the country;

    When between whirls of snow not come to lie

    And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove

    A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,

    Yet did in country fashion in that there

    He sat and waited till he drew us out

    A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.

    He proved to be the city come again

    To look for something it had left behind

    And could not do without and keep its Christmas.

    He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;

    My woods—the young fir balsams like a place

    Where houses all are churches and have spires.

    I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.

    I doubt if I was tempted for a moment

    To sell them off their feet to go in cars

    And leave the slope behind the house all bare,

    Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.

    I’d hate to have them know it if I was.

    Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees except

    As others hold theirs or refuse for them,

    Beyond the time of profitable growth,

    The trial by market everything must come to.

    I dallied so much with the thought of selling.

    Then whether from mistaken courtesy

    And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether

    From hope of hearing good of what was mine,

    I said, There aren’t enough to be worth while.

    "I could soon tell how many they would cut,

    You let me look them over."

    "You could look.

    But don’t expect I’m going to let

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