The Rose Family – Poem by Robert Frost

The rose is a rose,And was always a rose.But the theory now goesThat the apple’s a rose,And the pear is, and so’sThe plum, I suppose.The dear only knowsWhat will next prove a rose.You, of course, are a rose –But were always a rose.

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The Road Not Taken – Poem by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claimBecause it was grassy and wanted wear,Though as for that

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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening – Poem by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village, though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a

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Fire And Ice – Poem by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.From what I’ve tasted of desireI hold with those who favor fire.But if it had to perish twice,I think I know enough of hateTo say that for destruction iceIs also greatAnd would suffice.

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Acquainted With The Night – Poem by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.I have walked out in rain – and back in rain.I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.I have passed by the watchman on his beatAnd dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of

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A Late Walk – Poem by Robert Frost

When I go up through the mowing field,The headless aftermath,Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,Half closes the garden path. And when I come to the garden ground,The whir of sober birdsUp from the tangle of withered weedsIs sadder than any words A tree beside the wall stands bare,But a leaf that lingered brown,Disturbed, I

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A Minor Bird – Poem by Robert Frost

I have wished a bird would fly away,And not sing by my house all day; Have clapped my hands at him from the doorWhen it seemed as if I could bear no more. The fault must partly have been in me.The bird was not to blame for his key. And of course there must be

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A Soldier – Poem by Robert Frost

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,But still lies pointed as it plowed the dust.If we who sight along it round the world,See nothing worthy to have been its mark,It is because like men we look too near,Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,Our missiles always

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Poets
  • ADIL MANSURI116 Post(s)
  • AHMAD FARAZ337 Post(s)
  • Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi82 Post(s)
  • Allama Iqbal494 Post(s)
  • Mirza ghalib52 Post(s)
English Poets
  • Emily Angel31 Post(s)
  • Emily Dean13 Post(s)
  • Emily Huntington Miller7 Post(s)
  • Emily Knight13 Post(s)
  • Emily Liang26 Post(s)
  • Emily Wilson17 Post(s)
  • Robert Frost191 Post(s)
  • Rumi148 Post(s)
  • William Shakespeare376 Post(s)

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tazmin

ġham tumhārā thā zindagī goyā tum ko khoyā use nahīñ khoyā fart-e-girya se jī na halkā ho bas yahī soch kar nahīñ royā ashk to ashk haiñ sharāb se bhī maiñ ne ye dāġh-e-dil nahīñ dhoyā maiñ vo kisht-e-nashāt kyoñ kāTūñ jis ko maiñ ne kabhī nahīñ boyā aabla aabla thī jaañ phir bhī bār-e-hastī

safed chhaDiyan

janam kā andhā jo soch aur sach ke rāstoñ par kabhī kabhī koī ḳhvāb dekhe to ḳhvāb meñ bhī azaab dekhe ye shāhrāh-e-hayat jis par hazār-hā qāfile ravāñ haiñ sabhī kī āñkheñ har ek kā dil sabhī ke raste sabhī kī manzil isī hujūm-e-kashāñ-kashāñ meñ tamām chehroñ kī dāstāñ meñ na naam merā na zaat

diwar-e-girya

vo kaisā shobada-gar thā jo masnūī sitāroñ aur naqlī sūrajoñ kī ik jhalak dikhlā ke mere saada dil logoñ kī āñkhoñ ke diye hoñToñ ke jugnū le gayā aur ab ye aalam hai ki mere shahr kā har ik makāñ ik ġhaar kī mānind mahrūm-e-navā hai aur hañstā boltā har shaḳhs ik dīvār-e-girya hai

mujassama

ai siyah-fām hasīna tirā uryāñ paikar kitnī pathrā.ī huī āñkhoñ meñ ġhaltīda hai jaane kis daur-e-alama-nāk se le kar ab tak tū kaḌe vaqt ke zindānoñ meñ ḳhvābīda hai tere sab rañg hayūle ke ye be-jān nuqūsh jaise marbūt ḳhayālāt ke tāne-bāne ye tirī sāñvlī rañgat ye pareshān ḳhutūt bārhā jaise miTāyā ho inheñ duniyā