Skip to main content

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost's most famous poem:

Stopping by 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.

These 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.

People thought (and think) the poem is about suicide. The owner of the woods, they say, is a reference to God. The horse is his conscience telling him that this idea (stopping "without a farmhouse near," or committing the act) is unwise (he "must think it queer"). His peering into these woods is like peering into the unknown, and his his reference to sleep is a reference to death. He himself said the poem was not about suicide, though apparently some people still believe it is.

Whether or not the poem is about suicide, a cool thing about it is that it is made up of nearly all one-syllable words, which helps give it its rhythm. Also, his first stanza is made up of no hard consonant sounds, like "k" or "g", which I read somewhere (forgive me for not having the reference) helped give the impression that there was a light wind blowing. The best aspect of the poem, though, is its rhyme structure: every third line in the first three stanzas rhymes with three lines in the next stanza, so that it looks like this:

know(A)
though(A)
here(B)
snow(A)

queer(B)
near(B)
lake(C)
year(B)

shake(C)
mistake(C)
sweep(D)
flake(C)

In the final stanza, though, all four lines rhyme, something which-- if Frost did intend to imply suicide-- may give the poem the same sense of finality as the main character in it. Like visual art, people can find their own meaning in a poem. I tend not to think Frost intended to mean his main character was considering suicide, but it's possible, I guess.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Savior

This wasteland cold and dark runs free Its fearful creatures speak to me One fateful day one nudged my hand To set my eyes upon a tree He knew I could not understand For I was in his native land His signs became our common speech To lead me through the deadly sand Now stuck I saw him me beseech He could not lift me out to reach The firm foundation of a cave Outside the boundaries of this beach Withal, the beast became more brave To risk his own my life to save To carry me, its life it gave To carry me, its life it gave. This poem was inspired by Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." That poem, like this one, has four four-line stanzas of eight syllables per stanza. Its rhyme scheme is AABA BBCB CCDC DDDD.
Post a Comment
Read more

Ghosts

Exercising at a gym seems to be pretty important in our culture, but it's kind of weird to see the social dynamics when you're there. Usually, if you're running an errand, you see others doing the same thing, going about their days and focusing on what's in front of them. The same thing happens at the gym, only everyone is relatively stationary. They don't really go anywhere, except from one machine or area to another. One might think this lends itself to lots of interaction between members, especially since they're all there for the same purpose, but it isn't true. Not only do people generally avoid talking to one another, but they also avoid even looking at one another. It is as though there is no one else there, even though there are dozens on any given day. Most people follow this unwritten rule, unless something in the environment-- say, two people wanting to use the same set of weights-- gives them common ground to interact, or unless they've alr...
2 comments
Read more

The Nice Guy Fallacy

I read part of a poem recently by one of my favorite poets. It reads: I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage The linnet born within the cage That never knew the summer woods. I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time Unfetter'd by the sense of crime To whom a conscience never wakes. Nor what may call itself as bles't The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall I feel it, when I sorrow most 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. At base, Tennyson contrasted a life of risk, and consequent pain, with one of security. He sides conclusively with the life of risk, and says he fails to envy those who have faced no hardship. I agree with him; and, for good or ill, his words are just as relevant today as they were in the nineteenth century. Like then, there are those today who choose to live their lives with as little risk as...
2 comments
Read more