I have a special appreciation for Frost's maturity and experience over exuberant youth. His voice is aged and wise, which gives this reader respect for his art. The second half of his career was remarkable, as he captured the heart of America at JFK's inauguration, which was televised and had many viewers, giving him the exposure to set his career fully in motion. JFK named Frost an American Diplomat to the (then) USSR, where Frost sent a visage of love and was well received. Some might even say he saved the world, avoiding nuclear holocaust through his work.
Even though mostly considered a regional (New England) poet, Frost had moved to England’s Lake District and wrote his first collection, being marketed as an American poet. Once a publisher in the States picked up his book, Frost returned home with his family, but only then. He inspired many an English poet, rendering, as an artist, the truth accessible to everyone, describing nature very honestly. In "Fire and Ice," we find both destroy, just as the branches of a birch tree are worn by weather. He was considered (in his time) generally a farmer or regional poet, when he actually had worldwide influence and traveled rather extensively.
Robert Lee Frost was given his middle name because his father was a Southern sympathizer. Frost married his co-valedictorian from high school, and then became a farmer. He always wrote, and it had been a gutsy move to England, but he was successful there. Back in New England, Frost continued to write and resumed farm life, always being associated with the land, especially connected with New Hampshire, Vermont, and other regions north of Boston, MA. One exception to his rural style is "Acquainted With The Night," which is urban.
I must also mention the interesting use of timing over rhyming, which I enjoy, as present in "Acquainted With The Night." It’s similar to Whitman’s poetry, in that it cries, "Here I am! I lived too!" This is a strong piece, reflecting a sense of isolation, darkness, and sadness, without ever saying those words, using natural images and echoing the loneliness in human existence. He lacks the spiritual consolation Whitman offers by focusing on realistic moments (such as in "Home Burial"). God isn’t mentioned, as far as I can remember, and I wonder if this correlates to his never receiving the Nobel Prize. (It would be sad reality, in our, "...one nation, under God..."
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