I think this is the first state that I am representing with a poet, despite my deep and abiding love of poetry… I have been fascinated by Frost ever since my senior seminar on his poetry. He is hard to pigeon-hole, just like the U.S. and just like his homestate of New Hampshire. We frequently think of “The Road Less Taken” (so often misunderstood…), but he has a depth and breadth in his body of work that deserves a second look, if you’re so inclined…
First, a poem I just discovered courtesy of a wonderful Frost website:
To the Thawing WindCome with rain. O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
bath my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
And here are excerpts of some of my long-time favorites. They are long, so I’ve only included a taste — click on the title for the full poem.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it
And spills the upper boulder in the sun,
And make gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there,
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.

photo credit: dougtone
My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples 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 rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
I could go on… and on…
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Curious about what states we’ve done so far and which ones are on deck?
Photo by marxchivistFirst, from Melanie Jones:
Alabama: To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee (check out my To Kill A Mockingbird Sample Kit!) Michigan: The Virgin Suicides by Jeffery Eugenides Alaska: The Man Who Swam With Beavers by Nancy Lord Arizona: The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver North Dakota: Peace Like a River by Leif Enger Vermont: The Secret History by Donna Tartt Hawaii: Heads by Harry by Lois-ann Yamanaka Georgia: Leaving Atlanta by Tayari Jones And I went out on my own for…
Florida: Their Eyes Were Watching God by Nora Zeale Hurston Minnesota: In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O’Brien Wisconsin: When Madeline Was Young by Jane Hamilton Louisiana: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells (Jones’ pick) and The Awakening by Kate Chopin (my pick) Colorado: Plainsong by Kent Haruf Maryland: Anything by Anne Tyler Georgia: Awakening by Kate Chopin Ohio: The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison Arkansas: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou Virginia: John Grisham Idaho: Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson North Carolina: Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons Tennesee: Run by Ann Patchett New Jersey: Anything by Janet Ivanovich Texas: Anything by Elmer Kelton Connecticut: The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx Montana: The Big Sky by A.B. Guthrie Utah: Edward Abbey South Carolina: Pat Conroy Iowa: Wallace Stegner Pennsylvania: John Updike and James Michener
Wondering where your state is? Coming soon… In the meantime, weigh in on future picks!




Have you ever been to his home in Franconia, NH? My husband and I were on vacation in the White Mountains just drive along, and we saw the sign and went. It was great. There was even a trail in the woods behind the house and snippets from his poems were posted throughout the trail. This was about 8 years or so ago.
“After Apple Picking” is one of my favorite poems ever. I think of it as my father’s theme poem (he is an apple breeder/orcardist), and part of my master’s thesis had roots this poem.
Evidently Frost had a summer home in Vermont, too. There was a great story on NPR about the power of poetry–about teenage vandals who ruined Frost’s summer home and were forced to study his poetry as a punishment. Here’s the url-it’s worth listening to
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91126248
Hi Anna! I haven’t been to his home yet, but would like to go someday! The trail sounds great — thanks for the heads up!
@ SmallWorld Reads — Isn’t it the best. I love how the feeling of the rungs on his instep stay with him… and the dream sequence… what a great theme poem to have!
@ gentle reader — Thanks for the link! I had heard something about that story but didn’t know all of the details… As an English teacher, I sure support that ruling!
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