October Poem By Robert Frost
In this post I would like to invite y'all to read and ponder on a poem by one of the greatest poets of the 20th century, Robert Frost. It is titled "Oct", commencement published in England in 1913, in a largely autobiographical collection of poems chosen A Boy'southward Will.
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow'due south current of air, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows in a higher place the wood telephone call;
Tomorrow they may grade and go.
O hushed Oct morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the mean solar day seem to us less cursory.
Hearts not averse to existence beguiled,
Betray us in the style you know.
Release one foliage at break of 24-hour interval;
At noon release some other leaf;
One from our trees, one far abroad.
Retard the lord's day with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, irksome!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes' sake along the wall.
NOTES & REFLECTIONS
This poem is commonly classified every bit one of Frost's pastoral ones, and his employ of the theme of nature is in many ways typical of his after works. Frost originally came from New England, a region famous for exceptionally beautiful autumns, a glimpse of which we tin catch here. Those who honey fall and capeesh its wonders will hands form a mental picture of the setting.
October is the month of harvest festivals in many places; the weather is still relatively warm, balmy and pleasant (in the Northern Hemisphere, that is), and we bask the earth's bountiful gifts. Simply there is the other side to it: colder days are fast approaching and the cute foliage will soon exist replaced by naked branches. Frost encapsulates this dual, liminal and fleeting grapheme of October very well, but the poem is not merely nearly the seasonal changes: it serves every bit an allegory of human life.
Frost wrote this poem in his tardily 30s, but it could easily express the feelings of a much older person – someone in the proverbial autumn years of life. Things are still well and fine, one rejoices in the fruits of 1's labour and wishes to savor that pleasant, restful country for as much as possible. But life is already precarious – it is similar a ripened foliage, ready to fall at a touch of air current. One is reminded of a verse from Psalm 103, expressing a similar sentiment: "As for man, his days are every bit grass: equally a flower of the field, so he flourisheth."
Another Psalm-like characteristic is the utilize of o and thy which sets a solemn and prayerful tone right from the starting time. Frost addresses the season with reverence, almost as if he were addressing a deity – 1 that has the power to slow downward time, betray homo hearts, enchant the state with beauty and bounty. There is pleading urgency in the poet'due south accost (Deadening! Boring!), only death still inexorably approaches, as sure every bit fall is followed by winter.
If y'all want to larn more than about Robert Frost, you will detect some useful resources on my Pinterest board defended to him and his works.
Every bit ever, your thoughts and interpretations are well-nigh welcome. Please share them in the comments department below.
October Poem By Robert Frost,
Source: https://grammaticus.blog/2022/10/05/robert-frost-october/
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