It holds a special symbolism for me. It is almost too easy for us to find a special meaning in this particular rhyme: This is especially true of those called to be Christian Sabbatarians.
The first poet is the familiar New England icon, the salty, no-nonsense dispenser of rustic wisdom whose lines have the sturdiness and warmth of hearthstones knelt upon by generations of yeoman farmers.
This Frost is the Robert Frost of the common reader, the Frost of birches and fields and snow and spring pools.
He writes plain poems that make plain sense, or seem to. Those poems often rhyme, and when they do, they do so forthrightly deep and sleep, for instance. They're frequently about the quotidian lives of farmers, day laborers, mill workers, and other small-time folk at the beginning of the twentieth century.
Their stanzas slat tidily together, like the corners of log cabins, and their most memorable lines are the sort of homely epigrams you might find crocheted on throw pillows: He's part of the bedrock of the American identity.
The second Frost—"the other Frost," as Randall Jarrell described him in —is nearly the opposite of the first.
This Frost is dark, manipulative, and withholding. His poems are often about madness or violence, and their seemingly stable surfaces are sheets of ice through which the unwitting traveler can easily plunge into frigid water. This Frost was no provincial farmer-poet, but rather a ruthlessly competitive and immensely erudite artist who was far more widely traveled than peers often considered more cosmopolitan, like Wallace Stevens.
This Frost is the Frost of the sophisticated reader and, more specifically, the academic reader. Understanding this Robert Frost usually entails rejecting the first Frost as a pretense "the great act," as Robert Lowell once labeled it.
It often means rejecting the audience who believes in that act as well. As the critic Lionel Trilling put it in a birthday salute to Frost in"I have undertaken to say that a great many of your admirers have not understood clearly what you have been doing in your life in poetry.
And between these two possibilities is an obscuring, dust-filled haze. It's tempting to say that the truth must lie hidden somewhere in the middle of that uncertain divide.
If Frost isn't really a gruff but good-natured national bard, then surely it's equally wrong to try to turn him into a cold-eyed aesthete. The actual poet must be some blend of the two. But rather than wondering who or what Robert Frost really was, it's more interesting to wonder why his identity seems to matter in the first place.
Few readers, for example, worry over whether Ezra Pound was "really" something entirely different from the Ezra Pound one reads about in the introduction to, say, Early Writings Penguin Classics, The same goes for T.
Why do we care where the essence of Frost truly resides, and whom that essence was truly for? The answer to this question is complex. But one aspect of it is simple: Frost became a public figure in a way no other American poet has managed, or even come close to managing.
His goodwill was courted not just by scholars and other writers but by presidents and senators. Kennedy's secretary of the interior; and he was sent to the Soviet Union by Kennedy himself, where he spoke at length and privately with Nikita Khrushchev. Readers bought his works in numbers that would today be respectable for a fairly popular novelist, but that for a poet in the first half of the twentieth century were well beyond staggering.
By the time his Complete Poems was issued inmore than four hundred thousand of his books had been sold. That same year, a copy of Frost's first, privately printed collection was auctioned for the equivalent of thirty thousand dollars in today's currency, "a price thought to be the highest paid for a work by a contemporary American author," according to the New York Times.
When he died, his obituary ran on the front page of the Times, and included this tribute from Kennedy: Given that, it's probably not surprising that there have come to be multiple versions of Frost. When we want to lay claim to something, we put forward the image that seems most favorable for our possession.
Of course, at the beginning there were no images at all, only the very young Robert Frost—Robert Lee Frost, actually, for the Confederate general.
That middle name may seem odd for a poet who would come to be so closely identified with New England, but in fact, most of Frost's early life had very little to do with the Yankee farming milieu he later embodied.Robert Frost meant that the road less traveled is difficult yet gives an enriching experiences and make a man more intellectual.
And I didn’t find any difference between the two roads you described. The poem was at least in part a private joke between Robert Frost and one of his critics.
It is a good poem, but it is also a self contradiction. The two roads are identical. The traveller doesn't actually take the less travelled road - they are b.
"The Road Not Taken and Other Poems" by Robert Frost was the book on the shelf in the small poetry section at my local bookshop that appealed to me most, so that was what I chose. I wanted a collection of poetry from a single poet, one not too daunting so that I could read it slowly and enjoy it/5().
I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. ♣ Read the poem carefully. Choose from one of the following options: 1) You may choose to read the poem on your own--aloud or silently.
2) You may partner up with a friend and read the poem to each other. 3) If you would like. A second analysis: The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost is quite a popular poem; unfortunately however, its popularity comes mainly from the simple act of misreading.
With this poem, Frost has given the world a piece of writing that every individual can relate to, especially when it comes to the concept of choices and opportunities in life. Jan 14, · When I listen for His direction in choosing the right road, the one “less traveled by,” it makes all the difference.
Heavenly Father, thank you for the written word to guide and advise us when choices need to be made.