I'm not big on poetry but I've always found this work to be one on the finest. (although The Raven is my favorite)
Oh, in October I worked an event at the Georgian Mansion where mrs. jimfree is employed. A Taste of Amontillado featured period food and wine pairings with accompanying readings from early 19th century works. I read an abridged The Cask of Amontillado as well as The Raven.
I agree that Raven is one of the greatest poems of all time combining rhythm, lyricism, and imagery in an amazing way.
I thought this fine poem would garner some attention and thoughtfull discusion, maybe I thought wrong.
A beautiful poems about someone taking time for a moment of meditation in a workaday world.
But we can’t always stay in that moment of meditation, we have to return to the world where there are miles to go, promises to keep.
It’s such a great poem because it is self-contained, to the point, the language is very simple.
My favorite Frost poem:
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
No snowy woods to provide an escape these days. We just tune in to ESPN.
As with most of the best poetry, it is about death.
The rhymes seem basic, at first, but the alternation and reflection of endings through the stanzas doesn’t fit a standard pattern. It sounds very interesting when read aloud.
Wan’t this poem plagiarized from Al Gore’s work? Except his was about watching snow melt?
I actually have been to the spot that Frost was supposed to have stopped in the woods & been inspired to write this poem. Not too far from my Vermont house.
Frost was actually a somewhat nasty person. And, did you know, that you can sing this poem to the music from “Hernando’s Hide-away?”
Also, all Emily Dickenson poem’s can be sung to “The Yellow Rose of Texas”
Lovely poem. The last part was used in some spy novel or movie to wake up the sleeper agents. I don't remember which one.
Frost was a masterful poet. This is one of my favorites.
Man, he was good.
In the summer of 1961, I studied this poem in terrific depth in my English lit class.
I can’t remember a damn thing about what we discussed or learned.
The old dog barks backwards without getting up.
I can remember when he was a pup.
Funny you should post this one, it is one I think of almost every day. Not the whole poem, but the last three lines come to my mind towards the latter part of nearly every day, as I begin to get fatigued from the hectic pace of of my day - promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. I love this poem.
But, like the narrator, I've got miles to go, as well. We're heading up to NH to pick up SirKit's brother, who has been at a Priests Retreat all week.
We were also taught in college that this poem is about death, but it always sounded to me like he was in love with a married woman. The husband neglects her for his mistress in town, and she is slowly sinking into despair. But Frost is married too, so he does nothing. Reread it with this idea in mind and see if it makes sense to you.
We all have miles to go before we sleep....esp. now....
This was a nice poetic oasis ...thanks!
It's probably what "retirement" should be.
sw