Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Frost's Fireflies in the Garden

American poet Robert Frost (1874-1963) is another one of those poets that is a must in a poetry survey class.  Frost became a "professional" poet at the age of 20 when he was paid $15 for his poem My Butterfly.  He went on to become a very prolific poet.  One of his most famous poems is The Road Not Taken ( click for audio clip ).  Another popular poem and one of my favorites is Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening:

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. 

While reading some of his works, I discovered the following poem.  I was not familiar with it; however, the poem's title caught my eye since summer is waning.  What is a summer evening without fireflies?

Fireflies in the Garden

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

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