{"product_id":"poems-by-robert-frost-isbn-9780451527875","title":"Poems by Robert Frost","description":"\u003cb\u003eA collection of two of Robert Frost’s most celebrated poems in their original form: \u003ci\u003eA Boy’s Will\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eNorth of Boston\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The publication of \u003ci\u003eA Boy’s Will\u003c\/i\u003e (1913) and \u003ci\u003eNorth of Boston\u003c\/i\u003e (1914) marked the debut of Robert Frost as a major talent and established him as the true poetic voice of New England. Four of his volumes would win the Pulitzer Prize before his death in 1963, and his body of work has since become an integral part of the American national heritage.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e This is the only edition to present these two classics in their original form. \u003ci\u003eA Boy’s Will\u003c\/i\u003e introduced readers to Frost’s unmistakable poetic voice, and in \u003ci\u003eNorth of Boston\u003c\/i\u003e, we find two of his most famous poems, “Mending Wall” and “The Death of the Hired Man.” With an introduction by distinguished critic and Amherst professor William H. Pritchard and an afterword by poet and critic Peter Davison, this centennial edition stands as a complete and vital introduction to the work of the quintessential modern American poet.\u003ci\u003eIntroduction by William H. Pritchard\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eA BOY'S WILL\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003ePart I\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eInto My Own\u003cbr\u003eGhost House\u003cbr\u003eMy November Guest\u003cbr\u003eLove and a Question\u003cbr\u003eA Late Walk\u003cbr\u003eStars\u003cbr\u003eStorm Fear\u003cbr\u003eWind and Window Flower\u003cbr\u003eTo the Thawing Wind\u003cbr\u003eA Prayer in Spring\u003cbr\u003eFlower-Gathering\u003cbr\u003eRose Pogonias\u003cbr\u003eAsking for Roses\u003cbr\u003eWaiting—afield at Dusk\u003cbr\u003eIn a Vale\u003cbr\u003eA Dream Pang\u003cbr\u003eIn Neglect\u003cbr\u003eThe Vantage Point\u003cbr\u003eMowing\u003cbr\u003eGoing for Water\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003ePart II\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRevelation\u003cbr\u003eThe Trial by Existence\u003cbr\u003eIn Equal Sacrifice\u003cbr\u003eThe Tuft of Flowers\u003cbr\u003eSpoils of the Dead\u003cbr\u003ePan with Us\u003cbr\u003eThe Demiurge's Laugh\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003ePart III\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow Close the Windows\u003cbr\u003eA Line-Storm Song\u003cbr\u003eOctober\u003cbr\u003eMy Butterfly\u003cbr\u003eReluctance\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNorth of Boston\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMending Wall\u003cbr\u003eThe Death of the Hired Man\u003cbr\u003eThe Mountain\u003cbr\u003eA Hundred Collars\u003cbr\u003eHome Burial\u003cbr\u003eThe Black Cottage\u003cbr\u003eBlueberries\u003cbr\u003eA Servant to Servants\u003cbr\u003eAfter Apple-Picking\u003cbr\u003eThe Code\u003cbr\u003eThe Generations of Men\u003cbr\u003eThe Housekeeper\u003cbr\u003eThe Fear\u003cbr\u003eThe Self-Seeker\u003cbr\u003eThe Wood-Pile\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eAfterword: \"Farness and Depth\" by Peter Davison\u003cbr\u003eNote\u003cbr\u003eBibliography of Critical Works\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cb\u003eRobert Lee Frost\u003c\/b\u003e was born in San Francisco in 1874. When he was ten, his father died and he and his mother moved to New England. He attended school at Dartmouth and Harvard, worked in a mill, taught, and took up farming before he moved to England, where his first books of poetry, \u003ci\u003eA Boy’s Will\u003c\/i\u003e (1913) and \u003ci\u003eNorth of Boston\u003c\/i\u003e (1914), were published. In 1915 he returned to the United States and settled on a farm in New Hampshire. Four volumes of his poetry—\u003ci\u003eNew Hampshire\u003c\/i\u003e (1923), \u003ci\u003eCollected Poems\u003c\/i\u003e (1930), \u003ci\u003eA Further Range\u003c\/i\u003e (1936), and \u003ci\u003eA Witness Tree\u003c\/i\u003e (1942)—were awarded the Pulitzer Prize. He died in 1963.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eWilliam H. Pritchard\u003c\/b\u003e is a distinguished critic and Henry Clay Folger Professor of English at Amherst College. Among his works are \u003ci\u003eOn Poets and Poetry\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eFrost: A Literary Life Reconsidered\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePeter Davison\u003c\/b\u003e was an esteemed critic, poetry editor for \u003ci\u003eThe Atlantic Monthly\u003c\/i\u003e, and author of ten books of verse, including \u003ci\u003eThe Breaking of the Day\u003c\/i\u003e, winner of the Yale Younger Poets Award, and such works of nonfiction as \u003ci\u003eOne of the Dangerous Trades: Essays on the Work and Working of Poetry\u003c\/i\u003e.When I see birches bend to left and right\u003cbr\u003eAcross the lines of straighter darker trees,\u003cbr\u003eI like to think some boy's been swinging them.\u003cbr\u003eBut swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.\u003cbr\u003eIce-storms do that. Often you must have seen them\u003cbr\u003eLoaded with ice a sunny winter morning\u003cbr\u003eAfter a rain. They click upon themselves\u003cbr\u003eAs the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured\u003cbr\u003eAs the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.\u003cbr\u003eSoon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells\u003cbr\u003eShattering and avalanching on the snow-crust\u003cbr\u003eSuch heaps of broken glass to sweep away\u003cbr\u003eYou'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.\u003cbr\u003eThey are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,\u003cbr\u003eAnd they seem not to break; though once they are bowed\u003cbr\u003eSo low for long, they never right themselves:\u003cbr\u003eYou may see their trunks arching in the woods\u003cbr\u003eYears afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,\u003cbr\u003eLike girls on hands and knees that throw their hair\u003cbr\u003eBefore them over their heads to dry in the sun.\u003cbr\u003eBut I was going to say when Truth broke in\u003cbr\u003eWith all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,\u003cbr\u003eI should prefer to have some boy bend them\u003cbr\u003eAs he went out and in to fetch the cows--\u003cbr\u003eSome boy too far from town to learn baseball,\u003cbr\u003eWhose only play was what he found himself,\u003cbr\u003eSummer or winter, and could play alone.\u003cbr\u003eOne by one he subdued his father's trees\u003cbr\u003eBy riding them down over and over again\u003cbr\u003eUntil he took the stiffness out of them,\u003cbr\u003eAnd not one but hung limp, not one was left\u003cbr\u003eFor him to conquer. He learned all there was\u003cbr\u003eTo learn about not launching out too soon\u003cbr\u003eAnd so not carrying the tree away\u003cbr\u003eClear to the ground. He always kept his poise\u003cbr\u003eTo the top branches, climbing carefully\u003cbr\u003eWith the same pains you use to fill a cup\u003cbr\u003eUp to the brim, and even above the brim.\u003cbr\u003eThen he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,\u003cbr\u003eKicking his way down through the air to the ground.\u003cbr\u003eSo was I once myself a swinger of birches.\u003cbr\u003eAnd so I dream of going back to be.\u003cbr\u003eIt's when I'm weary of considerations,\u003cbr\u003eAnd life is too much like a pathless wood\u003cbr\u003eWhere your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs\u003cbr\u003eBroken across it, and one eye is weeping\u003cbr\u003eFrom a twig's having lashed across it open.\u003cbr\u003eI'd like to get away from earth awhile\u003cbr\u003eAnd then come back to it and begin over.\u003cbr\u003eMay no fate willfully misunderstand me\u003cbr\u003eAnd half grant what I wish and snatch me away\u003cbr\u003eNot to return. Earth's the right place for love:\u003cbr\u003eI don't know where it's likely to go better.\u003cbr\u003eI'd like to go by climbing a birch tree\u003cbr\u003eAnd climb black branches up a snow-white trunk\u003cbr\u003eToward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,\u003cbr\u003eBut dipped its top and set me down again.\u003cbr\u003eThat would be good both going and coming back.\u003cbr\u003eOne could do worse than be a swinger of birches.","brand":"Signet","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46305153220837,"sku":"NP9780451527875","price":4.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780451527875.jpg?v=1767734907","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/poems-by-robert-frost-isbn-9780451527875","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}