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Robert Frost

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 … Continue reading Robert Frost

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Fixed Forms · Poetry · Traditionalism

Howard Nemerov

Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle That while you watched turned to pieces of snow Riding a gradient invisible From silver aslant to random, white, and slow. There came a moment that you couldn’t tell. And then they clearly flew instead of fell. — Howard Nemerov, “Because You Asked about the Line between Prose… Continue reading Howard Nemerov

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Traditionalism

Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts. The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds. The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things       come in the… Continue reading Carl Sandburg

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American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Colloquial Speech · Compilation · Excerpt · Lyricism · Modernism · Passage · Poetry · Rhymed Stanza · Traditionalism

Robert Frost

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. ― Robert Frost, from “Desert Places,” The Collected Poems, Complete and Unabridged. (Holt Paperbacks; 2 Revised edition April 1, 2002)

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