"Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening"

Reviewing Robert Frost's winter solstice poem

Robert Frost struggled with depression that he often symbolized in his poetry. “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” depicts the poet pausing to contemplate the “woods fill up with snow” on “the darkest night of the year.”

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 think 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 sound’s 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.

This strikes me as a perfect poem. Frost wrote it in same terza rima scheme that Dante used in his Inferno. The latter poem opens with a middle-aged man suddenly finding himself lost in a “dark wood.”

The “darkest night of the year” seems to refer to the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere (December 21), but also to a dark night of the poet’s soul.

The “woods filling up with snow” is a scene of profound peace. “Lovely, dark, and deep,” they beckon the poet with their beautiful silence. But then the poet considers that he has responsibilities and still “miles to go before I sleep.”

And so he chooses not to commit suicide.

Dr. McCullough and I started this newsletter during a time of great turmoil, uncertainty, and distress in this still young Constitutional Republic of ours. We know that many of our readers sometimes despair at the folly and vice of our corrupt government and appalling political class.

However, we should always strive to be mindful of our blessings and all the beauty that surrounds us, especially in nature. Just before Christmas in 2011, my father sent me this photo he took of two fledgling wrens perched on a Colorado Blue Spruce. I still look at it every year at this time. Like spruce or fir tree, the image never loses its freshness.

Photo by Sam S. Leake

We hope this Christmas Eve will find you surrounded by friends and family and feeling a rejuvenated sense of hope and optimism.