The Wood-Pile Analysis

Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray 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 through. 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 gray 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 labor of his ax,
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.

.: :.

he feels unsafe in nature and lost. He believes he has found himself in line 17 but when he realizes that there are no footprints and the woodpile appears to be older than a year he realizes he is yet again lost. and then he commments on the way nature reabsorbs the woodpile and how mankind tries to destroy or alter nature and nature always prevails

| Posted on 2009-09-27 | by a guest

.: :.

Around a solem wood,
lies the remnants of the battle.
Of mighty king
and battered soldier.
The forgotten chapter in
the book of legend.
Trample the bodies and ruins,
the proud horse leads the knight.
Fancy a broken dagger
to the end of time.

| Posted on 2009-05-27 | by a guest

.: :.

I think that before Frost was walking to search for meaning in life...and when he say how the woodcutter was able to move onto new tasks, Frost realised that he too must move on and return to his responsibilites.

| Posted on 2008-10-08 | by a guest

.: :.

i think its about death. at the beginnig he says how he might turn back, but decides to walk on and see where he go's. i think that walkiin back would have given him life whereas walkin on he is walkin towards his death? he describes how the tree was old and grey, mabye he was old and grey. The fact that there is no stanzas in the poem, making it seem longer, symbolise how long his life was.
ruth, ireland

| Posted on 2008-09-18 | by a guest

.: Analysis :.

Basically he is just describing nature then comes across this wood pile that he feels has gone to waste. thats all i got out of it. how the heck am i going to write a 2 page poem analysis on this!!

| Posted on 2008-05-14 | by a guest