Robert Frost reads his best poems
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- Опубликовано: 2 июл 2024
- Audio of Robert Frost reading his own poems.
Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 - January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published in the United States. Known for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech, Frost frequently wrote about settings from rural life in New England in the early 20th century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes.
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1. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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2. Acquainted With The Night
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3. After Apple Picking
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4. November Guest
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5. The Road Not Taken
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6. Birches
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7. Tree at my Window
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8. Mending Wall
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One of my favourite poets but hear him read his own thoughts: now that's something else. Thanks for posting.
Thanks. Glad you enjoy Mr. Frost's poetry too.
To hear him read them as an old man is very moving.
And as an old man, hearing him, brings me to tears
William Burroughs reading?
I learned to be touched by sadness listening to his poem at Kennedy's Inauguration. I was only 13 and didn't know who I was, but as I sat watching him struggle with the bright Sun on a cold day as it bleached the letters white. How sad it seemed that this great man had to endure seeming addled by age. I felt sadness as though he were my Grandfather who I never knew showing me what there was to look forward to a lifetime later.
SIR FROST IS A MAGICAL❤
A WONDERFUL🌟 A MAGICAL POET🏆🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 GOD BLESS
REST IN PEACE POWER AND LOVE🙏 THANK U FOR ALL U GAVE US SIR ROBERT FROST🏆🌟
I’ve heard Frost read his poems before, I had a cassette tape of them. I wish this rendition did not have the background music. His voice is good enough by itself.
How wonderful to hear Frost’s voice reading his poems! ‘Stopping by Woods…’ has remained a favourite of mine since English lit. class during the 60s. Many years later I was privileged to visit his house in Maine - a special memory. Thank you for sharing this tape.
Robert Frost....always such an old soul and giver of life! So grateful to you for all the beauty you gave us!
Near crying for the birch poem. God Bless.
I love these poems, have since I was in grade school. He speaks of a time and a place in America that is no more.
How right you are about the no more, and more's the pity
I wonder what Mr. Frost would think of me, thinking of him, on this lovely snowy day. Slowly pacing across my house, drapes retracted. Gazing aimlessly outside, not taking in any one thing but everything at once. Nostalgic for days gone by that never happened. Just the same. My flesh retreats, in a reluctant gait, to the the dark side of the house. Colder, dimmer, lifeless but unjudging. My soul desires the light.
He could like it.
📃✍️👂🫶🏻
It's beautiful
Very good!
He’d see an aspiring poet.
I love this man’s writing. It was a key inspiration for my own poetry writing. As all human beings, Mr. Frost had struggles. It is always important to separate the art from the artist. I wish more Americans were able to divorce celebrity from capability; especially when they choose their political leaders.
One of the greatest literary minds and voices that America ever produced.
Another literary figure, Robert Graves, said of Frost... "The truth is that Frost was the first American who could be honestly reckoned a master poet by world standards".
@@lesliekollerprivate5062 No whitman?
@@jaymo27 no Longfellow?
The poems, the poet, all marvelous. As is hearing him read them. How perfect that is. Each takes me away to somewhere else. Maybe a past memory or just someplace I've not been but would greatly love to go.
Every time it snows here in West KY(which is a rarity), I always feel compelled to listen to Stopping by Woods and then more Frost.
"To Frost"
Poet, birthing words that never meet death,
Against the window, vapor'ed in your breath.
Composed upon unwinding roads you've crossed,
Though warm in form, bone chilling is the Frost.
Inspiration: your ill-timed given gift.
Received in present tense so to uplift.
For words, once spoken, spray across the air.
And stop, without knowledge, of when and where.
And so, all poets, outlived by their words,
Shall live forever as the universe.
by: Carlos Ornelas
This is beautiful
@@abdulbasith6842wow, thank you so much. I must admit that I've only read two of his poems. But I saw one of his interviews and heard him resite a poem before and I respect his knowledge and his thoughts on poetry.
@@abdulbasith6842 I've never memorized anyone's poetry. I can barely remember two or three of my own poems. Strangely, I've never read much of anything but my own works.
@@venetiablah6717 thank you so much.
@@abdulbasith6842 I am humbled. Thank you so much. And yes, I agree, the music of today is trash. I've done my share of trash also. But nowadays, I believe in tradition and preserving culture more than ever. I'm glad there are still people in the world who appreciate and support the arts. It gives me great hope and fuels my creative engine. Sincerely, thank you.
i cracked a poetry book open out of nowhere and landed on The Road Not taken.... me and my kiddos used to try and recite it over our campfires... now... my son recites it perfectly 10 years later....
Heartwarming. One of my favorites!
Beautiful Poems. Captivating the imagination as if it all happenned before our
eyes, while stirring up feelings and smells and memories of (not} so long ago!
Robert Frost was quoted as saying " it is the rhythm of the words that is more important than the words." I hear what he means.
A pleasure. Thank you.
Breathtaking
Wonderful poetry.
This man inspires me
What a treasure
Source of inspiration
A great power of creation
Oh my God -chilling - waht a treasure.
Robert Frost and Ted Hughes are my favourite past century Poets. 🆗✔️👍🏻
That is beautiful 😍
That has made all the difference..
Wonderful poet❤
Wish this included several others as well: Desert Places, Neither Out Far Nor In Deep, "Out, out...:
I Like Robert Frost
And there are the fallen leaves our tears rest, blow again mighty bare tree, and as I've rested, grow and shed again , so we, both have given and comforted coming of death life and leaves.
Kathryn Thornton
I had to write that. .for had cancer not taking my beauty taken my beauty, I shall cry again, set alarm for evermore of my tears will have a place to rest I am thankful for the tree, and now I'm not alone
I'm new to this and should learn editing but I thought it was beautiful, So does the tree
I sit with rounded back. My arse in my normal chair - diverting my attention like a stop sign in the hand of a lollipop girl - I take time to listen to a man far wiser, with more hair, than me - He talks about trees and paths and words that curl , like pages of my old books all bent and brittled with time like me.
His poetry I memorize to try to get it.
Nice 😊👍👍👍👍👍😊
Peace
The voice. Is a small frequency to the soul. Forget that name america. It was never yours.
How many out there saw a granny brush her hair out in the morning
I wish they would take out the soundtrack. His poems don’t require it.
There's a plethora of readings of his poetry on RUclips without any music, go find one of them and stop complaining.
Just a crack in the road. I have observed' on pilgrimage, of no discernment. Wondering' to question, such'. Does each hour' coincide, each step'. To what side? Did this route bring' me, viewing a flaw' in a mis-match' journey. Not' merely mine, no-one' can lay claim's. On owning the trail, before they tread. What is a step' to the mile? - where is the mid way'? To you, or me. And when' would it be a finished story? If ever. Certainly not' by simply, laid death. To much in that' finds, unanswered. The mystery' one creates, by never showing. How curve and destination could have forked. There-by' expanding, what dreams' may had come. If not for untimely leaving, of existence. For that, never again' being known. As branch, or root. Twisting' down ever deeper' into tomb. Without Sun's rays, or up to fresh, clear air. Finding blue sky's, by touch' of heaven's domain. The slow' arduous, direction across. To maybe, again' push through. Up-towards, light's greater' caption. Perhaps' tearing the veil.
And making straight' the path, leading out' of perdition. Breaking' a place in asfault. And rising above' the crack, once' more. To continue' a new way. Down a much' different road.
Not the words. The Man.
The Man behind the Words!
@@gcj7771 The Soul. Nor words, nor Man. Be good brother. You are other me. And I another you.
So walls keep in or out elves. I never knew 😎
Would you please post the musicless version of this?
Just search "Robert Frost reading his poetry" and you'll find a plethora of videos such as the one you are looking for. Of all the videos on RUclips where Frost reads his own poems, this is probably the only one that has music added. It makes no sense to complain about the music.
How much time did you have to decide?
I have a question about Frost's poem "Home Burial" if anyone understands it
চমৎকার অসাধারণ কবিতা
বাংলা ভাষায় অনুবাদ চাই।
Background music is far too loud. Detracts
I'm alive
born 1874. Wow. Wen he 10, 16, 21, 25, 30, 50. what his eyes Saw, what his Mind remembers, What his Being experienced.
he being just One, just a Man.
The music ruins it.
Great to hear the poet reading his works. Why the insipid music?
The. background music is so disreacting
great reading...crappy music.