Robert Frost

The American Voice…

Background

Born March 26, 1874 Grew up in San Francisco,

California Favorite pass time as a child was

playing baseball After father’s death, his mother,

sister and himself moved to Salem, New Hampshire

Education…

At age 14 he attended High school in Lawrence, Mass

Wrote first poem called “La Noche Trist” published in school newspaper

Dartmouth Harvard University Never received a degree from either

school Became a drifter

The start of his career…

1894 sold first poem “Butterfly” to editorial

Married Elinor White, high school sweet heart in 1895

1900 Frost’s grandfather bought him a farm

Spent time with his family, enjoyed nature and talked with his neighbors

Worked farm for 12 years Taught school to support his family

Frost on the Move…

Writing poetry had not earned him enough money

Sold farm 1912 and moved his family to England

Found publisher for first book of poems and was well received

1915 moved family to U.S because of WWI

Famous Frost…

Move to U.S proved profitable and Frost became famous after the publication of two poetry collections/books.

Third collection was also a success Bought farm in New Hampshire Began teaching at Amherst College

Famous Frost Continued…

1924 won Pulitzer Prize for “New Hampshire” 1st of 4 he would receive

Hard Times…

1934 youngest daughter died of a fever

Wife died suddenly of a heart attack

Only son committed suicide

Towards the end…

After WWII he wrote fewer poems and spent more time in his public role as writer

Final appearances was at John F. Kennedy’s inauguration

Highest honor ever given to a poet Frost died in 1963 at age 88

Frost’s Style-- “Simplicity”

Use of plain language to reflect the simple lives of New England farmers

Use of Blank Verse to achieve natural rhythms of everyday speech

Use of metaphors that change commonplace ideas into experiences of deeper meaning

Use of repetition, dialogue and dialect Unusual word order for emphasis

A QUOTE

A poem is never a put-up job, so to speak

It begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of

Wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It

Is never a thought to begin with. It is at its

Best when it is a tantalizing vagueness. It

Finds it thought and succeeds; or doesn’t

Find it and comes to nothing.