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The Road Not Taken and Other Poems    by Robert Frost order for
Road Not Taken and Other Poems
by Robert Frost
Order:  USA  Can
A & C Black, 1993 (1916)
* * *   Reviewed by J. A. Kaszuba Locke

I recently cleaned out a suitcase full of books, and came across a small, soft-cover, with pages turned yellow from time, but treasured all the same - selected poems by Robert Frost (1874-1963). I love poetry, but poetry doesn't always love me, i.e. while some poets speak to me clearly, my intellect finds others hard to digest. In The Road Not Taken and Other Poems, Robert Frost uses everyday incidents and imagery with elegant simplicity, finding an easy way into my mind, heart, and soul.

Frost's verse 'An Old Man's Winter Night' offers: 'A light he was to no one but himself ... One aged man--one man--can't fill a house, / A farm, a countryside, or if he can, / It's thus he does it of a winter night.' As I absorb the poet's words, I look out my window and see the New Hampshire winter snowfall kissed by the sun into sparkling glitter by day, or by the light of the moon at eventide, seasonal white that has a right to be here. I find solace in that vista, and enjoy Frost's brisk 'A Patch of Old Snow' - 'There's a patch of old snow in a corner / That I should have guessed / Was a blow-away paper the rain / Had brought to rest. / It was speckled with grime as if / Small print overspread it, / The news of a day I've forgotten-- / If I ever read it.' How many times in my life have I done just that, forgotten news of a day which cannot be revived or refreshed, or failed to pay attention to events that should have stayed with me longer?

In physically aging, we speak of the Golden Years and the Silver Years, but most of us continuously search for that gold or silver. As the years pass by, I find myself dwelling on one of Frost's most-loved poems, 'The Road Not Taken' - 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, / And sorry I could not travel both / And be one traveler, long I stood / And looked down one as far as I could / To where it bent in the undergrowth'. So go life's choices, but only time will reveal what's past that bend in the undergrowth for each of us.

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