Things I’ve Learned While Roaming the Earth

Next, on our walk-through of classic poetry, I’d like to move on to poems about nature. Most of us have seen at least one or two examples of these, in High School or otherwise, and what we’ve seen has generally left a bad taste in our mouths. The archaic language and seemingly endless imagery have made most of us content to steer clear of this style of poetry. In some ways, rightly so. There is a huge assortment of classical nature poetry that less than meekly stirs the spirit or imagination.

But there remain those handful of poems that speak not only of the beauty of nature, but also tell of something deeper, a truth about mankind often hidden from our eyes, secrets of the human condition that can only be understood through the beautiful description of poetry. The best of nature poetry always has that “something more,” locked away in its imagery. Robert Frost was a master of this art. The first two poems of nature will be by him, and I want you to notice how he doesn’t end his poems of nature without that extra “something more.”

His first poem is arguably his most famous, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” I love the feel one gets right away from just the title. It’s such a simple thing – stopping to watch snow fall on the trees of a small forest. But the simplicity of the beginning of the poem only serves to heighten the effect of his last stanza. I know you’ll enjoy this one. Stopping by woods on a snowy evening.

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 find 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 sounds 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.

Robert Frost

This poem needs very little explanation. The imagery of the first three stanzas is so simplistic and soft, it’s almost borderline boring. But then you’re hit with it, the last stanza, made all the more profound because of the plainness of the preceding stanzas. He hits us with that “something more,” that mysterious longing bound up in the soul of humankind than yearns to forever grasp the beauties we discover, forsaking the old adage that “All good things must come to an end.”