Said the student, of Whitman: "It's rubbish!" Thought I, "That's garbage, not rubbish. This is American lit, after all.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
The Lessons and Consistency of Frost
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Figure a Poem Makes
Robert Frost, a great American writer, is renowned for his poetry. This being the case, I was a little surprised that one of my favorite parts of the Frost section was the assigned prose reading comprising his ideas about the formation of a poem. Don’t get me wrong, I think Frost’s poetry is brilliant, but I was fascinated by his description of what a poem ought to be and do. One of the most successful things about “The Figure a Poem Makes” is that, to my way of thinking, his criteria are met in many of his own poems.
In “The Figure a Poem Makes,” Frost states that a poem should be surprising while still fulfilling its subject. To be a poem, the work’s ending must be structured in a way that surprises both the writer and the reader. However, after the initial surprise, the ending must be recognizable as the only possible way the poem could have ended, given its beginning.
An example of this idea can be seen in Frost’s poem “The Wood-Pile,” in which the beginning image of the wood-pile is fulfilled by the dénouement of the poem, where we find that the wood has been left
“To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.”
The abandoned wood-pile left in the snow at the start of the poem is burning by the end, and the lines along the way flow naturally into this conclusion, describing the constant state of decay the wood-pile has been in for an uncertain length of time. The intended purpose of the wood, implied at the start of the poem, has been fulfilled by the end.
Similarly, if the title of “Nothing Gold Can Stay,” were not the same as the last line, the end would be both surprising and strangely natural. All of the golden things pictured before are short-lived: spring, flowers, leaves, Eden, dawn. Frost produces picture after picture of gold that appears for a time before eventually fading away, so we subconsciously know the final line before we read it. In this way, Frost achieves the effect he described as “an outcome that though unforeseen was predestined from the first image of the original mood.”
Frost also emphasizes his perception of the very purpose of poetry. He writes in “The Figure of a Poem” that a true poem “begins in delight and ends in wisdom.” In this way, a poem becomes a “clarification of life…a momentary stay against confusion.” In “Fire and Ice” Frost reveals one such clarification. He begins by explaining that
“Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice,”
and that since he has experienced desire, he leans towards fire. But by the end he has said that
“I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.”
This admission illuminates the devastating power of two facets of human nature—desire and hate—which are capable of destroying the world twice over, in fire and ice respectively.
Through his clarification of life, combined with the orderly development of his poetry, Frost achieves a third goal laid out in “The Figure of a Poem”: summoning from the chaos of his experience the material for his poetry. This method of drawing the order and pattern of the cosmos out of the seeming chaos of everyday life, in addition to being a clarification of life, is an affirmation of life—the pain, the beauty, and the joy of life. By writing poetry that has “run itself and carried the poet away with it,” Robert Frost invites us to be carried along as well, to be continually surprised by the wildness, the fragrance, the meaning of life.