This book is worth hunting for because the poetry written in it is extremely interesting to me. It was written to be read in front of the attendees of the inauguration ceremony of President John F. Kennedy in 1961.

I quote here, in this December month, the month before January. When Kennedy was inaugurated, he was one of the US Presidents who made a breakthrough by using the mass media as an integral part of his presidential campaign. Next year, Obama was the American president who also offered a new way of campaigning: a grassroots campaign. Every breakthrough is worth remembering, every breakthrough is worth recording. Will it be recorded in the pages of prose or poetry? We will see.

The book is one of the items on my hunting list.

Dedication

Summoning artists to participate
In the august occasions of the state
Seems something artists ought to celebrate.
Today is for my cause a day of days.
And his be poetry's old-fashioned praise
Who was the first to think of such a thing.
This verse that in acknowledgement I bring
Goes back to the beginning of the end
Of what had been for centuries the trend;
A turning point in modern history.
Colonial had been the thing to be
As long as the great issue was to see
What country'd be the one to dominate
By character, by tongue, by native trait,
The new world Christopher Columbus found.
The French, the Spanish, and the Dutch were downed
And counted out. Heroic deeds were done.
Elizabeth the First and England won.
Now came on a new order of the ages
That in the Latin of our founding sages
(Is it not written on the dollar bill
We carry in our purse and pocket still?)
God nodded his approval of as good.
So much those heroes knew and understood,
I mean the great four, Washington,
John Adams, Jefferson, and Madison
So much they saw as consecrated seers
They must have seen ahead what not appears,
They would bring empires down about our ears
And by the example of our Declaration
Make everybody want to be a nation.
And this is no aristocratic joke
At the expense of negligible folk.
We see how seriously the races swarm
In their attempts at sovereignty and form.
They are our wards we think to some extent
For the time being and with their consent,
To teach them how Democracy is meant.
\\"New order of the ages\\" did they say?
If it looks none too orderly today,
'Tis a confusion it was ours to start
So in it have to take courageous part.
No one of honest feeling would approve
A ruler who pretended not to love
A turbulence he had the better of.
Everyone knows the glory of the twain
Who gave America the aeroplane
To ride the whirlwind and the hurricane.
Some poor fool has been saying in his heart
Glory is out of date in life and art.
Our venture in revolution and outlawry
Has justified itself in freedom's story
Right down to now in glory upon glory.
Come fresh from an election like the last,
The greatest vote a people ever cast,
So close yet sure to be abided by,
It is no miracle our mood is high.
Courage is in the air in bracing whiffs
Better than all the stalemate an's and ifs.
There was the book of profile tales declaring
For the emboldened politicians daring
To break with followers when in the wrong,
A healthy independence of the throng,
A democratic form of right devine
To rule first answerable to high design.
There is a call to life a little sterner,
And braver for the earner, learner, yearner.
Less criticism of the field and court
And more preoccupation with the sport.
It makes the prophet in us all presage
The glory of a next Augustan age
Of a power leading from its strength and pride,
Of young amibition eager to be tried,
Firm in our free beliefs without dismay,
In any game the nations want to play.
A golden age of poetry and power
Of which this noonday's the beginning hour.

However, Frost failed to read that long poem. His eyes were dazzled by the sunlight reflected by the snowflakes that fell at that historic moment. He read the short poem that he had memorized.

The Gift Outright

The land was our before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England's, Still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely; realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.

(Source: http://www.pbs.org/newshour/inaugurat...)

The Road Quite Well-Traveled-By

A shockingly high percentage of this literary work is, in fact, just fine. It is not bad in a traditional “literary” sense. I am certain that Frost adhered to the established conventions and met the expected standards in terms of mechanics. However, it falls short when it comes to revealing the true essence of Robert Frost and his world within the neatly trimmed and cultivated lines of rhyme.

Here and there, there are phrases and disclosures that manage to catch at the soul. These are the parts that I can read and re-read with great pleasure, and even a bit of excitement and inspiration. For these particular elements, I would award a solid five stars. It is rather disappointing, though, that much of the rest of the work is quite tidy and bland.

I understand that there are likely layers of symbolism within this work that I may be ignorant of. It is said that Frost was ahead of his time, being “beat” before the term was even a thing, and punk long before punk became cool. But must I constantly keep in mind what every little detail such as the crusted snow, the lone aster, the pine spruce gum, the spruce, the cellars, and myriad other natural things represent in each and every line of verse?

If you're a die-hard fan of Robert Frost, then this particular collection is an absolute must-have for you. It's truly a gem that you simply can't afford to miss.

I'm extremely grateful to Lloyd Flannigan for his wonderful introduction to the works of Frost. His guidance has opened up a whole new world of literary beauty and inspiration for me.

Frost's poetry is like a magical tapestry, woven with words that paint vivid pictures and evoke deep emotions. Each poem is a masterpiece in its own right, filled with profound insights and unique perspectives on life, nature, and the human condition.

This collection brings together some of Frost's most iconic and beloved works, allowing you to immerse yourself in his poetic universe and experience the power and charm of his words. Whether you're a seasoned poetry lover or just starting to explore the world of verse, this collection is sure to captivate and delight you.

So don't hesitate, get your hands on this collection today and discover the wonder of Robert Frost's poetry for yourself.

I do try not to get overly worked up over too many dead white guys. However, my boy Robert is unashamedly one of my absolute favourite poets.

His words have the power to transport me to different worlds, to make me feel emotions I never thought possible.

Whether it's his profound insights into the human condition or his beautiful descriptions of nature, Robert's poetry always manages to touch my soul.

I find myself constantly coming back to his works, seeking inspiration and solace in his words.

He is truly a master of his craft, and I feel privileged to have discovered his poetry.

Even though he may be long gone, his words live on, continuing to inspire and move generations of readers.

I can only hope that his legacy will continue to be passed down and that more people will have the opportunity to experience the beauty and power of his poetry.

I was truly intrigued when I learned that Frost and Edward Thomas had met and spent time together in England before the First World War. This came about following a review of some of Frost's poetry by Thomas.

It seems to me that in some way, the fact that these two individuals are now coming together in my understanding is both a sign of the deficiencies in my education and a fortunate indication that there is always more to discover about the world. I firmly believe that "The Road not taken" was inspired by some of the walks the two went on. Moreover, Frost also encouraged Thomas to write and publish his own poetry.

There is something rather unnerving about that connection for me. Perhaps it is just the sense of how long Frost's adult life was, considering he was also performing at the inauguration of J.F. Kennedy.

I recall a verse about almost being carried off by an eagle as a child. This then has that reoccurring theme in poetry of the writer's self-identity as a poet, as well as their own place in their culture. Frost not becoming Ganymede stands in relation to Petrarch and his Laura, evoking the laurel which crowns the poet's brow as a symbol of the Muse's victory.

Although the volume, no doubt cheaply acquired, stands on the shelf, I doubt I'll become deeply acquainted with it. Poetry for me has the feel of hard work. I am a lazy reader, disinclined to break my head over ambiguous phrasing and elusive meaning.

My favorite Robert Frost poem? Well, of course:

Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening...

Perhaps you have to have been born in a cold country to truly appreciate his sentiments in that poem. The cold, the snow, they hold a certain magic and mystery. But even if you haven't been born in such a place, our travels and journeys in life can give us such a chill at times. It's almost like the infernal cold of the beautiful but crisp snow.

Life has its cold moments, when we feel lost and alone, much like the traveler in Frost's poem. But it's in those moments that we can find beauty and inspiration. The stillness of the snowy woods, the soft crunch of the snow beneath our feet, it can all bring a sense of peace and clarity.

Frost's poem reminds us that even in the coldest of times, there is still beauty to be found, and that sometimes, stopping and taking a moment to appreciate it can make all the difference.

The first category of Frost's narratives is ballads. These are considered his weakest work in this mode. His initial five books contain only four narrative ballads - two in "A Boy's Will" and two in "Mountain Interval". They differ from his other narrative verses in their use of rhyme and stanza, as well as their conventional diction and syntax, which seem overly traditional and perhaps derivative. Their lack of stylistic individuality is particularly evident in "Mountain Interval", where neighboring poems like "The Road Not Taken" and "Birches" have a more supple, subtler, and distinctively Frostian cadence. Meanwhile, the language in "Brown's Descent" sounds stiff and generic.

The second category of Frost's narrative poetry is also traditional - linear narratives composed of blank verse, usually told in the third person. The form seems borrowed from earlier narrative poetry and the contemporary short story, but is more concisely described than in either tradition. Despite their traditional structure, these poems avoid the anachronistic manner of ballads. Their language is modern and conversational, and their tone is understated and austere. Perhaps most significantly, they seem hard-edged and realistic rather than soft or idealized. However, like the ballads, they represent a small portion of Frost's narrative work. There are only four such linear narratives in the first five books - "'Out, Out—,'" in "Mountain Interval", "A Place for a Third", and "Two Look at Two" in "New Hampshire". And finally, in "Mountain Interval", "The Vanishing Red", a brutal and callous tale that is probably Frost's most controversial poem. (To this quartet, one should probably add "Paul's Wife", a tall, rambling story that seems unique among the narratives, more of a spiral in design than linear.) These four poems are all strikingly concise and controlled.

The dramatic monologues are especially revealing. Critics often describe Frost's narratives as "monologues", but this term is usually a misnomer. In the first five books, there are only three dramatic monologues - "A Servant to Servants" in "North of Boston", "The Pauper Witch of Grafton", and "Wild Grapes" in "New Hampshire". The dramatic monologue emerged as the leading narrative form during Frost's formative years. Brilliantly developed by Browning and Tennyson, it provided a narrative strategy that offered lyric compression and psychological depth of character. It became the central narrative form for early twentieth-century American poets. Robinson, Pound, Eliot, Edgar Lee Masters, and Conrad Aiken all did significant work in this form. Frost's avoidance of the dramatic monologue cannot be accidental. Unlike the ballad, the monologue was well-suited to his talents. "A Servant to Servants", a dark portrayal of a depressed and exhausted woman on the verge of madness, as Jarrell and Parini have noted, is a poem of memorable intensity. Frost's hesitation with this form came not from what he could put into it, which was compelling, but from what he couldn't include.

The fourth category of Frost's narrative work is the largest and most original. These poems were so innovative in style and structure that even a hundred years later, there is no conventional name for Frost's verse form. I shall call it the dramatic narrative. Written in conversational blank verse (except for "Blueberries", which is in rhymed anapestic couplets), the dramatic narratives combine direct dialogue with minimalist narration, usually in the omniscient third person. The conversation predominates, and the narration is strictly descriptive, never offering any overt authorial interpretation of the characters or situations. Instead, the narration sets the scene and describes the characters' actions when not speaking, just as stage directions would in a realist play.

Robert Frost's book is filled with numerous poems.

The stories these poems construct are simple and easy to understand.

Even the longer poems that span several pages can be easily traversed if one desires.

My favorite poem in the book is "Leaves compared with Flowers."

It is highly memorable, and I once had it committed to memory.

Works such as these impart meaning to poems and, for me personally, inspire a greater desire to read more.

Frost's poetry has a unique charm that draws readers in and makes them want to explore the depths of his words.

The simplicity of his stories combined with the beauty of his language makes his poems accessible to a wide range of readers.

Whether you are a seasoned poetry lover or just starting to explore the genre, Robert Frost's poems are sure to leave a lasting impression.

Sometimes, it is truly remarkable how a great poet can have a body of work that consists of both many mediocre poems and yet also many truly great ones.

When we consider the works of such poets as a whole, their true genius often shines through.

This is the case for me, at least when it comes to Frost and Yeats. Their collections are a rich tapestry of different styles and themes, with some poems perhaps not reaching the heights of others, but when taken together, they create a profound and lasting impression.

However, this is not the case for Auden and Pound. While they may have had some notable works, their overall bodies of work do not have the same impact on me when considered as a whole.

It is perhaps a matter of personal taste and perspective, but for me, Frost and Yeats stand out as poets whose works are best understood and appreciated when taken in their entirety.

The first poetry book I ever purchased holds a special place in my heart.

It was a classic collection that immediately caught my attention. The moment I laid my hands on it, I knew it was something special.

The poems within its pages were not only beautifully written but also incredibly easy to read. They flowed smoothly, captivating my imagination and taking me on a journey of emotions.

Each word seemed to be carefully chosen, painting vivid pictures in my mind.

Whether it was a poem about love, nature, or the human condition, I found myself completely immersed in the author's world.

This poetry book was a gateway to a new realm of literature for me, and it sparked my love for poetry that has continued to grow ever since.

It will always remain a cherished possession, a reminder of the moment when I first discovered the beauty and power of words.

I came into this exploration with the hope of uncovering another poem that was perhaps less well-known yet equally captivating. However, I ended up with the same two that I had initially gone in with: The Road Not Taken and Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. There were others that also left a lasting impression, such as Birches and Fire and Ice (I really wished the latter was longer). I noticed a distinct contrast between Frost's rhythmic, colloquial traditional forms and his almost平淡的blank verse that, to be honest, read like short stories. Maybe he should have also delved into prose. The last stanza of Desert Places truly amazed me:

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars⁠—on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.

Due to the simplicity and folksy rhythms of his work, I had the impression that Frost was rejecting the universalism of his contemporaries like Pound and T.S Eliot by mainly focusing on New England. It was almost as if he was a watered-down American Transcendentalist who arrived at the party a century too late. In Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, I read it with a certain interpretation, imagining the narrator as a circuit queen with his desperate group of harness-clad friends (the horse) "To watch his woods fill up with snow"⁠⁠⁠—a bit of a wink there. By the time I reached Birches, all I could see was the phallic imagery scattered throughout...subdued his father's trees/By riding them down over and over again/Until he took the stiffness out of them/...swinger of birches. Not bad for a four-time Pulitzer Prize winner, but even after going through so many of his poems, those first two remain my favorites by Frost.

I discovered recently that my unborn son is able to hear the world around him. It got me thinking about what would be the perfect introduction for him to poetry, rhythm, nature, and language. And there is no one better than Robert Frost. His works are a treasure trove of beautiful expressions and profound insights.

I have always loved Robert Frost's collection. Each poem seems to paint a vivid picture in my mind, transporting me to different landscapes and emotions. The way he uses words to describe the simplest of things, like a snow-covered field or a lonely road, is truly remarkable.

Not only do his poems have a wonderful rhythm that makes them a joy to read aloud, but they also teach important life lessons. Through his poetry, my son will be able to learn about the beauty and complexity of nature, the power of language, and the importance of following one's own path. I can't wait to share Robert Frost's works with him and watch as he discovers the magic of poetry for himself.