The Pause
Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” is a very popular poem. It is part of the school curriculum in many schools in several countries. Frost is one of the greatest American poets and he excelled at writing about nature.
There are two origin stories that I came across while reading about this poem. In the first, the traveller is Frost himself. He is recounting a sad time in his past. Before becoming a famous poet, Frost went through hard times. To support his family, he took to farming. One day, while returning from the market, he was feeling particularly dejected. He had not been able to sell enough produce to buy Christmas gifts for his children. He stopped his wagon and broke down in tears. After that brief pause, he resumed his dreary ride home.
In another origin story, the poem came to him as a ‘vision’ on a summer morning. He was tired and sleep-deprived. All of a sudden, he envisioned the entire scene in his mind’s eye. And after that the writing was effortless.
Maybe both these stories are true. Maybe, in his sleepy state, he suddenly recalled that heart-breaking evening from long ago, and the words and emotions just flowed onto paper.
In 2019, this poem came into the public domain and I am reproducing it below:
“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.
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.”
There is so much stillness and silence in the poem. The narrator is still, the lake is frozen, even the sun left early, and the only sound is of a gentle wind and of the falling snow. Just a man and his horse looking at the quiet world around them.
I had not read the entire poem until last month (where have I been?). Yet, over the years, I have heard the last four lines used over and over in several contexts. The poem evokes a vision of a lone traveller, standing motionless, surrounded by, and lost in, nature. A traveller who would probably have stood there even longer if his horse had not ‘objected’. It is a sign of our times that from this serene poem, the lesson we most remember is how he tore himself away from the mesmerizing scene. And moved on so that he could fulfil his obligations.
We live in such a time of gritted teeth and dug-in heels that we are partial to narratives of other people doing the same. Of giving up what they want to do for the sake of what they should do. The poem deserves to be re-imagined as a poem steeped in the beauty of nature rather than as a poem of grit.
I particularly liked watching a video of author Jennifer L. Scott reciting this poem. She is visibly moved by Frost’s poetry. That is what poetry is for. To make us all feel deep feelings. And even better, to share them with another human being.
