Out walking in the frozen swamp one grey day
I paused and said, "I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther—and we shall see."
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went down. The view was all in lines
Straight up and down of tall slim trees
Too much alike to mark or name a place by
So as to say for certain I was here
Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
He thought that I was after him for a feather—
The white one in his tail; like one who takes
Everything said as personal to himself.
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
He went behind it to make his last stand.
It was a cord of maple, cut and split
And piled—and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before.
The wood was grey and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
What held it though on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall. I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself, the labour of his axe,
And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.
Notes
Composition date is unknown - the above date represents the first publication date.
The lyrical form of this poem is unrhyming.
5.went down: went through (in Robert Frost, Collected Poems,
Prose, & Plays [Library of America, 1995], p. 100, a later,
revised text).
30.Clematis: buttercup, a climbing vine, often with lovely flowers.
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Comments
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From guest maddy (contact)
i've just discovered this piece and have fallen in love. when he speaks of the bird, he compares it to a defensive person. it made me think of my sister and how anything someone says is automatically offensive and therefore she gets like that bird. although the part where he forgets the bird to see the wood concerns me slightly making me think of ADD. he is so focused on this defensive bird and then forgets about him without a second thought to look at a random piece of wood. but without a doubt, robert frost is a literary genius. -
This poem is mind shatteringly brilliant! It made me really think about what path I'm taking, and how to change myself.
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I could smell the crisp Winter air
as if i was walking beside him
My favorite part was when he talked about the bird
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted
Wonderful images throughout the poem which made it so surreal
Another wonderful piece from Robert Frost!
Edited on Feb 27, 6:25 p.m. because ''. -
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