I can't recall what year it was, but we were given an assignment in English class to pick any poem and interpret it for the class. I chose this Robert Frost poem. It's imagery grabbed me, and I talked about the serenity of the scene depicted by the snow, the harness bells, the horse plodding along, and the woods.
When I finished my analysis, the instructor informed us all that this poem was really about dark things... the contemplation of withdrawing from society and obligations, or even from life itself. It was a depressing poem, said he. I think my dislike of poetry began at that moment.
Recently I read that no one really knows for sure what Frost was getting at. But it may not be as suicidal as some would like to think. Perhaps he just liked the way the words sounded together.
I believe I like poetry again. Mr. English teacher, stick your analysis in your ear.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
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.
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.
The 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.
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