Robert Frost: Farm-Poultryman; the Story of Robert Frost's Career as a Breeder and Fancier of Hens & the Texts of Eleven Long-Forgotten Prose Contributions by the Poet, Which Appeared in Two New England Poultry Journals in 1903-05, during His Years of Farming at Derry

Robert Frost: Farm-Poultryman; the Story of Robert Frost's Career as a Breeder and Fancier of Hens & the Texts of Eleven Long-Forgotten Prose Contributions by the Poet, Which Appeared in Two New England Poultry Journals in 1903-05, during His Years of Farming at Derry

Robert Frost: Farm-Poultryman; the Story of Robert Frost's Career as a Breeder and Fancier of Hens & the Texts of Eleven Long-Forgotten Prose Contributions by the Poet, Which Appeared in Two New England Poultry Journals in 1903-05, during His Years of Farming at Derry

Robert Frost: Farm-Poultryman; the Story of Robert Frost's Career as a Breeder and Fancier of Hens & the Texts of Eleven Long-Forgotten Prose Contributions by the Poet, Which Appeared in Two New England Poultry Journals in 1903-05, during His Years of Farming at Derry

Excerpt

Robert Frost liked to recall that in his early days, before he had won recognition as a poet, he had experimented with many possible occupations. Given the proper encouragement, he would reminisce engagingly on the diversity of those adventures. To interested journalists he might, for example, describe his experiences as a newsboy on the streets of San Francisco, or his work as contributor to his high school paper in Lawrence, Massachusetts, or his later periods of employment as a cub reporter. Teachers sometimes heard him tell of his beginnings in pedagogy: of how he "ran away" from Dartmouth to restore discipline among the unruly boys in an eighth-grade class his mother was, with difficulty, trying to handle; of how in taking over his mother's position he walked into that classroom on the first day with a fixed determination and brandishing menacingly a handful of rattans. Factory workers or union officials were apt to stir his recollections of life in a textile mill -- memories that included the awful time when a broom he dropped from a ladder, high above, had gone ripping through the threads of a jackspool, cutting every strand. He also liked to tell of his one, ill-fated venture as an impresario; of how, while still in his teens, he had answered a newspaper ad and thus become the manager -- for the duration of but a single, disillusioning engage ment . . .

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