Bethany's Reviews > Selected Poems

Ah, Robert Frost: the man who convinced me that I hated poetry.
Years ago, I was assigned to read some of his poetry for school and, let's just say, I read them as if I was taking cough-syrup. (Note: Why, yes! I hate cough-syrup. I'll never forget the fateful night where I spit a mouthful of it across the bathroom. Good times...) Anyhow, so I didn't enjoy his poems because I was reading them with the wrong attitude &c. If Carl Sandburg hadn't come along later and shown me what a wonderful thing poetry can be, I don't know where I'd be today!

So, while rummaging around the attic the other month, I came across this hated volume of poetry and decided to give ol' Robert another try. Guess what? I didn't hate him! He'll never be my favourite poet, but I don't hate him. (I didn't really care for the selections from North of Boston, but the other ones were good! The poem "Birches" was my favourite, I think.)