Works Cited

Poirier, Richard. "On Mending Wall" Literature: Reading Fiction,Poetry, and Drama. Robert Diyanni.
New York University, 2008. p.987-988

Frost, Robert. "Mending Wall" Literature: Reading Fiction,Poetry, and Drama. Robert Diyanni.
New York University, 2008. p. 960-961

Why I chose "The Mending Wall"

This poem to me was like looking directly into my personal history. I had an identical situation with a neighbor who lived next door. He had a forest of trees completely concealing his property, and more growing all the time. Also, his fence was made of layered stones. Whenever I would see him outside his house, I would attempt to talk to him, but my efforts were always fruitless. In essence, I chose this poem due to it's peculiar coincidence in relation to a small part of my life.

Interpretation

In the famous poem "Mending Wall" by Robert Frost, a central theme is that of social interaction. The speaker of the poem expresses his attempts to talk to his neighbor in the story, hoping for a time consuming conversation to take place, "I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line." (Frost 960) However the wall built between the neighbors seemingly serves as a shield between the two neighbors, and the man opposite the fence can only deliver a one line reply: "Good fences make good neighbors."(Frost 961) Although the fence serves as a barrier, Richard Poirier suggests that the mending wall simutaniously serves as a catalyst for social happenings, "It can be said that restrictions, or forms of it, are a precondition for expression." (Poirier 987)The speaker is then encouraged by his form of restriction to sieze freedom by talking to his neighbor. In his attempts to speak to his neighbor, however, the speaker is shot down with "reiterated assertions of his companion, which are as heavy and limited as the wall itself." (Poirier 987) In the end, the hopes for communications are so little the speaker ends up seeking solace in his own mind my talking with just himself, "So hopeless is this speaker of any response, that all of his talk may be only to himself." (Poirier 988)

"The 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 out-door 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 offence.
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."

The Life of Frost

Robert Frost was born in San Fransisco, California on March 26, 1874. His parents were William Prescott Frost Jr., and Isabelle Moodie. Something Peculiar about Frost's life was how plauged with despair it was. At age 11 in 1885, Robert's father died, leaving the family with eight dollars. 15 years later, his mother died of cancer. In 1920, he had to commit his younger sister jeanie to a mental institution, where she died nine years after admission. Frost had six children with his wife Elinor Miriam White. Only two of his children outlived him. Many of his jobs were based in the world of academia.

Despite Frost's numerous setbacks in life, he still managed to be awarded four Pulitzer Prizes for poetry. Frost died on January 29, 1963.

Welcome to the blog of perpetual poetic pondering

The above title displays one of the more common poetic devices. "Perpetual Poetic Pondering" is an example of alliteration, or the repetition of consonant sounds. There are many poets that possess the ability to demonstrate some degree of mastery over poetic devices such as alliteration.

The poet this blog is dedicated to, however, was regarded as a man who could make use of all poetic devices in a most effective fashion. After doing that, he still had enough creative energy to go beyond the conventional poem writing tactics.



^^^^^^^^^
This man...is Robert Frost.

This is a blog dedicated to the study and appreciation of just one of Mr. Frost's works. The poem being discussed is titled,

"The Mending Wall."