One of Frost's . . .

By Sue Petrovsky

One of Frost's poetic techniques is to present alternatives to readers: In "Road Not Taken" he emphasizes choice, but then indicates that both roads were about equal, in "Stopping By the Woods" he tells his readers that he has much to do before he leaves, but indicates that there is a choice to leave without completing one's work, and in "Mending Wall" he gives us the choice of tearing down the walls that separate us or not. Do fences make good neighbors?

Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it
And spills the upper boulder in the sun,
And make gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there,
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost (1874-1963)



TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same, 10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20

Robert Frost’s life was full of trouble of all kinds, and yet this man wrote some of the best loved poetry in America. He won the Pulitzer Prize four times and was the recipient of numerous other awards. I have always been drawn to Frost’s poems for their natural, earthy flavor. There is little pretense in Frost. I love Frost's work for how it speaks to me which is part of his charm: I wonder about the roads I never took in my life, and looking back I see that that has made all the difference.

His poem, “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening” voices my feeling that “I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.”


Google Frost’s poems and enjoy

Sue