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He came home to find the editor of The Atlantic Monthly asking for poems. Later Frost lectured and taught at The New School in New York. His books, "New Hampshire: A Poem With Notes And Gracenotes," won him the Pulitzer Prize in 1924.
He sent along the very ones that had previously been rejected, and they were published. When his "Corrected Poems" were published in 1931, he again won that prize.
Influenced by the poems of Edgar Allan Poe, Robert wanted to be a poet before he went to Dartmouth college where he stayed only through the year 1892.He described the Soviet leader as "no fathead"; as smart, big and "not a coward." "He's not afraid of us and we're not afraid of him" he added. Khrushchev had said the United States was "too liberal to fight." It was this remark that caused a considerable stir in Washington.Thus in the late years of his life, Frost moved among the mighty. Frost died shortly after complaining of severe chest pains and a shortness of breath.Frost had been dictating an article on Ezra Pound from his hospital bed when he fell asleep, according to his daughter, Leslie Frost. A private funeral service, to be attended by members of the family, will be held for Mr. Burial will be in the family plot in Old Bennington, Vt. A number of such chair have already been created in the poet's name, and the project was one in which he was deeply interested. Finally, it might have been even more appropriate to link his uniqueness to his breathtaking sense of exactitude in the use of metaphors based on direct observations ("I don't like to write anything I don't see," he told an interviewer in Cambridge, Mass., two days before his 88th birthday.) Thus he recorded timelessly (by matching the sharpest observation with the most exact word) how the swimming buck pushed the "crumpled" water; how the wagon's wheels "freshly slice" the April mire; how the ice crystals from the frozen birch snapped of and went "avalanching" on the snowy crust. Kennedy took the oath as President -- was perhaps the most dramatic of Mr. Invited to write a poem for the occasion, he rose to read it. Lyndon Johnson watching him won a prize because of the deep apprehension in their faces. Aware of the problem, he simple put aside the new poem and recited from memory an old favorite, "The Gift Outright," dating to the nineteen-thirties. Later he took the unread "new" poem, which had been called "The Preface," expanded it from 42 to 77 lines; retitled it "For John F. Udall, Secretary of the Interior, on a visit to Moscow.
To countless persons who had never seen New Hampshire birches in the snow or caressed a perfect ax he exemplified a great American tradition with his superb, almost angular verses written out of the New England scene.