Desert Places – Poem by Robert Frost

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fastIn a field I looked into going past,And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,But a few weeds and stubble showing last. The woods around it have it – it is theirs.All animals are smothered in their lairs.I am too absent-spirited to count;The loneliness includes me unawares. And

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Fireflies In The Garden – Poem by Robert Frost

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,And here on earth come emulating flies,That though they never equal stars in size,(And they were never really stars at heart)Achieve at times a very star-like start.Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.

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Bereft – Poem by Robert Frost

Where had I heard this wind beforeChange like this to a deeper roar?What would it take my standing there for,Holding open a restive door,Looking down hill to a frothy shore?Summer was past and the day was past.Sombre clouds in the west were massed.Out on the porch’s sagging floor,Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,Blindly

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An Old Man’s Winter Night – Poem by Robert Frost

All out of doors looked darkly in at himThrough the thin frost, almost in separate stars,That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.What kept his eyes from giving back the gazeWas the lamp tilted near them in his hand.What kept him from remembering what it wasThat brought him to that creaking room was age.He stood

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A Line-Storm Song – Poem by Robert Frost

The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift,The road is forlorn all day,Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift,And the hoof-prints vanish away.The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee,Expend their bloom in vain.Come over the hills and far with me,And be my love in the rain. The birds have less to say for themselvesIn the

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After Apple Picking – Poem by Robert Frost

My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a treeToward heaven still.And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fillBeside it, and there may be two or threeApples I didn’t pick upon some bough.But I am done with apple-picking now.Essence of winter sleep is on the night,The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.I cannot shake the shimmer

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The Silken Tent – Poem by Robert Frost

She is as in a field a silken tentAt midday when the sunny summer breezeHas dried the dew and all its ropes relent,So that in guys it gently sways at ease,And its supporting central cedar pole,That is its pinnacle to heavenwardAnd signifies the sureness of the soul,Seems to owe naught to any single cord,But strictly

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A Cliff Dwelling – Poem by Robert Frost

There sandy seems the golden skyAnd golden seems the sandy plain.No habitation meets the eyeUnless in the horizon rim,Some halfway up the limestone wall,That spot of black is not a stainOr shadow, but a cavern hole,Where someone used to climb and crawlTo rest from his besetting fears.I see the callus on his soulThe disappearing last

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A Dream Pang – Poem by Robert Frost

I had withdrawn in forest, and my songWas swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;And to the forest edge you came one day(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,But did not enter, though the wish was strong:You shook your pensive head as who should say,‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—He must

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ġham tumhārā thā zindagī goyā tum ko khoyā use nahīñ khoyā fart-e-girya se jī na halkā ho bas yahī soch kar nahīñ royā ashk to ashk haiñ sharāb se bhī maiñ ne ye dāġh-e-dil nahīñ dhoyā maiñ vo kisht-e-nashāt kyoñ kāTūñ jis ko maiñ ne kabhī nahīñ boyā aabla aabla thī jaañ phir bhī bār-e-hastī

safed chhaDiyan

janam kā andhā jo soch aur sach ke rāstoñ par kabhī kabhī koī ḳhvāb dekhe to ḳhvāb meñ bhī azaab dekhe ye shāhrāh-e-hayat jis par hazār-hā qāfile ravāñ haiñ sabhī kī āñkheñ har ek kā dil sabhī ke raste sabhī kī manzil isī hujūm-e-kashāñ-kashāñ meñ tamām chehroñ kī dāstāñ meñ na naam merā na zaat


vo kaisā shobada-gar thā jo masnūī sitāroñ aur naqlī sūrajoñ kī ik jhalak dikhlā ke mere saada dil logoñ kī āñkhoñ ke diye hoñToñ ke jugnū le gayā aur ab ye aalam hai ki mere shahr kā har ik makāñ ik ġhaar kī mānind mahrūm-e-navā hai aur hañstā boltā har shaḳhs ik dīvār-e-girya hai


ai siyah-fām hasīna tirā uryāñ paikar kitnī pathrā.ī huī āñkhoñ meñ ġhaltīda hai jaane kis daur-e-alama-nāk se le kar ab tak tū kaḌe vaqt ke zindānoñ meñ ḳhvābīda hai tere sab rañg hayūle ke ye be-jān nuqūsh jaise marbūt ḳhayālāt ke tāne-bāne ye tirī sāñvlī rañgat ye pareshān ḳhutūt bārhā jaise miTāyā ho inheñ duniyā