BMcNair


 * __ Poetry Explication __**
 * By Ben McNair **

1874-1963 Robert Frost was born March 26, 1874 in San Francisco. While in high school, he became intrigued by poetry. Frost attended Dartmouth College and Harvard but never obtained a degree from either school. He had a variety of jobs working as a cobbler, teacher, and editor. His initial work was “My Butterfly” which was published November 8, 1894. Frost married Elinor Miriam White shortly after in 1895 and together they had two children. After writing many great poems, Frost died on January 29, 1963 in Boston Massachusetts.
 * Robert Frost **



“Mending Wall”
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it And spills the upper boulders in the sun, And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one stone on a stone, But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line And set the wall between us once again. We keep the wall between us as we go. To each the boulders that have fallen to each. And some are loaves and some so nearly balls We have to use a spell to make them balance: “Stay where you are until our backs are turned!” We wear our fingers rough with handling them. Oh, just another kind of outdoor game, One on a side. It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors.” Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: “//Why// do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I’d ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offense. Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him, But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather He said it for himself. I see him there, Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. He moves in darkness as it seems to me, Not of woods only and the shade of trees. He will not go behind his father’s saying, And he likes having thought of it so well He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.” ** Explication ** This is a poem about two neighbors who as one of their yearly chores set out to rebuild a wall that separates their two adjoining properties. The narrator, one of the property owners, questions this ritual as the wall serves no purpose in his eyes. The other property owner feels it is very necessary saying, “Good fences make good neighbors”. This brings about curiosity in the narrator wondering what the neighbor needs the fence for. Frost uses some imagery in describing land around the wall, and the hunting practices that sometimes destroy it. He also I believe uses some personification when saying his apple trees won’t eat the neighbor’s pine combs. I believe the wall is a symbol of ambiguity. It is seen as a border marking the property and also as a barrier hiding what is on the other side. It also could be thought to have other meanings when described as a good fence, when it quite honestly could be hiding bad things on the other side of it. I feel like the wall is definitely a sign of ambiguity in this poem. The neighbors go out to rebuild this wall and get into a simple discussion of why even have this wall around. One neighbor thinks it is strange to have it while the other feels it is a necessity. I personally think the neighbor fighting for having the wall is a little shady. He could possibly like his privacy but I think he’s hiding something that he doesn’t want his neighbor to see. His quote about “Good fences make good neighbors” sounds like he is saying that the less your neighbors know about you the better neighbors they are. That is why I believe the neighbor is hiding something on his property from the narrator.

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. ** Explication ** Frost describes the end of the world and the terrible ways in which it will end. He believes it will end in Fire or Ice. He contemplates whether he would prefer Fire or Ice. He then decides that they both serve their purpose and he would be satisfied with either. He uses some rhyme scheme for this poem, this being the only poetic device found in this poem. The idea that he considers death, especially a horrific death by fire or ice, to be a desired experience is incredibly weird. The fact he wants to experience it twice so as to die by both fire and ice I feel could be considered ambiguous. I wonder if the world ending and his death has another meaning which I am not catching on to but I definitely sense some other meaning by it all because it just meaning death seems rather disturbing. Also the use of opposites such as fire and ice I feel is one of the major multiple meanings that can be found in this poem. I feel this is Frost dealing with an age old question of how the world will end. Many religions address the worlds end and death in their own way, and other writers as well. One of the more famous and detailed predictions about death and the afterlife was written by Dante. His work the “Divine Comedy” spoke about the nine levels of hell and in his worst version of hell it involves people being frozen in place. The debate over which version Frost prefers seems reasonable at first but it comes across like which one would be more enjoyable not which one would be less excruciating. This is rather disturbing and the idea that he wants to experience both seems rather crazy. media type="youtube" key="1QwBdRIfrvk" height="340" width="560"
 * Fire and Ice **

“Mowing”
There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I know not well myself; Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, Something perhaps, about the lack of sound— And that was why it whispered and did not speak. It was not dream of the gift of idle hours, Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf: Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers (Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake. The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows. My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.

** Explication ** Frost is describing the old practice of cutting grass or harvesting wheat, cutting it with a scythe. He starts getting into the scythe and the noise it makes as it slices through the grasses growing beside the wood. He describes the sound of the scythe as a whisper. He then wonders exactly what the scythe is whispering. Frost personifies the scythe by saying that it is whispering, and conveying some message. He also uses imagery in describing the nature in which the scythe is surrounded by. The mentioning of the sound made by the scythe as a whisper seemed rather ambiguous. The simple noise of the blade moving through the air could be described as whispering, but when Frost begins to delve into what the scythe is actually saying the poem takes on a more complicated style. Frost comes across like a True Red-blooded American who loves to cut grass. Only during Frost’s time people cut grass using a Scythe. Frost enjoys the sound made by the scythe as he works, seeing as how it is the only sound heard in the wood and to help pass the time he tries to imagine the Scythe saying things while it cuts. His mentioning of gold and elves shows the depths of his imagination and since his imagination first goes to happy thoughts it makes you think that he finds this chore relaxing and enjoyable. I find this poem clicked with me as I cut grass a lot so I understand this daydreaming as you cut to help pass the time, even though I do so with the drone of a motor in the background as opposed to the whisper of a scythe.



1819-1892 Walt Whitman was born in West Hills, New York on May 31, 1819. Whitman started reading at an early age. After school, he worked with print trade and in 1836, being only seventeen years old, he starting teaching school on Long Island. He taught until he took up his career in journalism in 1841. In 1855, Whitman published twelve untitled poems into the first edition of //Leaves of Grass//. Whitman struggled with money for a majority of his life. In 1870, Whitman moved to Camden, New Jersey to care for his dying mother, and there he battled with having a stroke. He eventually bought a house in Camden with the money from his publication of another edition of //Leaves of Grass// in 1882. His final days were spent editing and revising his final works in the book //Good-Bye, My// Fancy. Whitman’s life ended on March 26, 1892 in Camden and is now buried in the Harleigh Cemetery.
 * Walt Whitman **




 * To A STRANGER**

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured, You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me, I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return, I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone, I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.


 * Explication **

Whitman is in a public place either sitting or walking but in both cases watching some unsuspecting stranger and imagining they have some past history. He thinks through all of these different scenarios of how they could have interacted at some point. He debates the gender of this familiar stranger several times but is unable to remember it through the haze. He then wishes to see this person again. The entire poem has an ambiguous feel. There seems to be two ways to think about it, whether the familiar stranger is a boy or a girl. If the stranger is a boy then Whitman obviously believes he had a close friendship with this stranger. If the stranger is a girl then this is a rather creepy situation of Whitman stalking some woman through the streets. This poem by Whitman is a creepy portrayal of Whitman as a street combing stalker. He tries to give it a less creepy spin by saying he is stalking someone he feels he knows from a long time ago, maybe even a dream. Either way it doesn’t work because the imagery of him watching someone so intently is disturbing. He is unsure of the gender of this person he is watching which adds greatly to the disturbing factor. Then he gets into personal experiences he believes he had with this person and how as they check each other out it is gratifying to them both. It comes across like he is in denial as to how creepy he is and that he doesn’t know this person. It is also kind of weird that he could be checking out a man and feeling these ways, the same ways one could interpret him feeling towards a woman if that is who he is watching.

A noiseless, patient spider, I mark'd, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated; Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding, It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself; Ever unreeling them--ever tirelessly speeding them.
 * A NOISELESS, PATIENT SPIDER**

And you, O my Soul, where you stand, Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,--seeking the spheres, to connect them; Till the bridge you will need, be form'd--till the ductile anchor hold; Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

** Explication **

Whitman describes the actions of a spider forming a web and going about normal activity for a spider. Then Whitman starts describing his soul as if it is the spider building a web. The imagery conjured up of the spider making his web is very detailed and almost helps you understand what his soul is going through. He also uses some repetition of adjectives when both describing the spider and his soul. I feel the mentioning of the spider and the soul is ambiguous. As you read this poem without taking the time to notice the separation of stanzas you forget whether he is describing the spider or his soul. The imagery he creates when describing the two is incredibly detailed and powerful, making you feel like you’re watching a spider create a web but at the same time discovering new things about his soul. I personally feel that Whitman is either living an incredibly busy or incredibly cluttered life. When bringing up the imagery of a spider web, which he does incredibly well, I either get the image of an incredibly tangled spider web and that he’s trying to show how cluttered his life is or that he’s trying to say through a detailed spider web image that he’s incredibly busy running in many different ways like a web. Or possibly he could be saying his soul is being pulled many different ways, like the center of a spider web. This is not an often used simile, a soul like a spider spinning a web, so it is hard for me to pin point exactly what I think Whitman is trying to say. I guess the most general way to cover it is that his soul is confused being pulled in many different directions like a spider web.