A plow, they say, to plow the snow.
They cannot mean to plant it, no—
Unless in bitterness to mock
At having cultivated rock.
They cannot mean to plant it, no—
Unless in bitterness to mock
At having cultivated rock.
Plowmen
About the poet
Robert Frost
Robert Lee Frost was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published in the United States.
View profile & all 58 Poems / StoriesMore from Robert Frost
Home Burial
He saw her from the bottom of the stairsBefore she saw him. She was starting down,
Christmas Trees
The city had withdrawn into itselfAnd left at last the country to the country;
Blueberries
"You ought to have seen what I saw on my wayTo the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
To Earthward
Love at the lips was touchAs sweet as I could bear;
Bond and Free
Love has earth to which she clingsWith hills and circling arms about
