Poems For Children By Robert Frost

The Aim Was Song 

Before man came to blow it right

     The wind once blew itself untaught,

And did its loudest day and night

     In any rough place where it caught.

Man came to tell it what was wrong:

     It hadn’t found the place to blow;

It blew too hard—the aim was song.

     And listen—how it ought to go!

He took a little in his mouth,

     And held it long enough for north

To be converted into south,

     And then by measure blew it forth.

By measure. It was word and note,

     The wind the wind had meant to be—

A little through the lips and throat.

     The aim was song—the wind could see.

(By Robert Frost) 

Gathering Leaves

Spades take up leaves

No better than spoons,

And bags full of leaves

Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise

Of rustling all day

Like rabbit and deer

Running away.

But the mountains I raise

Elude my embrace,

Flowing over my arms

And into my face.

I may load and unload

Again and again

Till I fill the whole shed,

And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight,

And since they grew duller

From contact with earth,

Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use,

But a crop is a crop,

And who’s to say where

The harvest shall stop?

(By Robert Frost)

The Aim Was Song 

Before man came to blow it right

     The wind once blew itself untaught,

And did its loudest day and night

     In any rough place where it caught.

Man came to tell it what was wrong:

     It hadn’t found the place to blow;

It blew too hard—the aim was song.

     And listen—how it ought to go!

He took a little in his mouth,

     And held it long enough for north

To be converted into south,

     And then by measure blew it forth.

By measure. It was word and note,

     The wind the wind had meant to be—

A little through the lips and throat.

     The aim was song—the wind could see.

(By Robert Frost) 

Gathering Leaves

Spades take up leaves

No better than spoons,

And bags full of leaves

Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise

Of rustling all day

Like rabbit and deer

Running away.

But the mountains I raise

Elude my embrace,

Flowing over my arms

And into my face.

I may load and unload

Again and again

Till I fill the whole shed,

And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight,

And since they grew duller

From contact with earth,

Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use,

But a crop is a crop,

And who’s to say where

The harvest shall stop?

(By Robert Frost)

Nothing Gold at Stay

Nothing Gold Can Stay

BY ROBERT FROST

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

(By Robert Frost)

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

(By Robert Frost)