MR. FROST, IS TIME A FACTOR IN THE PERFECTION OF A POEM?
I WAS SURPRISED TO LEARN YOU WROTE A CHARMING POEM,
"STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING"
IN ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES.
OH, MORE OR LESS, YES, VERY SHORTLY,
VERY DIRECTLY PUTTING IT RIGHT THROUGH.
WOULD YOU PLEASE RECITE IT?
YOU WANT TO HEAR ME SAY THAT?
STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING.
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.
IT IS BEAUTIFUL.
OH, I CARE, I'M GLAD OF ANY POLITICAL FREEDOM THEY GIVE ME
- BUT WHAT I'M INTERESTED IN IS NOT POLITICAL FREEDOM;
I'M INTERESTED IN THE LIBERTIES I TAKE,
HERE AND ELSEWHERE. ALWAYS.
IT WAS EXPRESSED IN SOME OF YOUR POEMS VERY VIVIDLY
THIS PHILOSOPHY THAT YOU JUST SAID.
ONE CALLED THE DRUMLIN WOODCHUCK, FOR INSTANCE,
IS ABOUT A MAN MAKING HIS OWN FREEDOM AND HIS OWN SECURITY,
I SUPPOSE YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT.
SEE, THE UPPER CLASSES ARE SUPPOSED NOW TO PROVIDE
THE SECURITY OF THE LOWER CLASSES
JUST AS IF THIS WASN'T A DEMOCRACY.
I SEE. WE WOULD BE VERY HAPPY TO HEAR THIS POEM.
YOU WANT TO HEAR THE POEM?
I'D LOVE IT.
THE WOODCHUCK'S TALKING -
"GROUNDHOG" SOME PEOPLE CALL IT.
THE WOODCHUCK SAYS, "MY OWN STRATEGIC RETREAT,
IS WHERE TWO ROCKS ALMOST MEET,
AND STILL MORE SECURE AND SNUG,
A TWO-DOOR BURROW I DUG.
WITH THOSE IN MIND AT MY BACK,
I CAN SIT FORTH EXPOSED TO ATTACK
AS ONE WHO SHREWDLY PRETENDS
THAT HE AND THE WORLD ARE FRIENDS.
ALL WE WHO PREFER TO LIVE, HAVE A LITTLE WHISTLE WE GIVE,
AND FLASH, AT THE LEAST ALARM, WE DIVE DOWN UNDER THE FARM
WE ALLOW SOME TIME FOR GUILE, AND DON'T COME OUT FOR A WHILE,
EITHER TO EAT OR DRINK, WE TAKE OCCASION TO THINK.
AND IF AFTER THE HUNT GOES PAST AND THE DOUBLE-BARRELED BLAST
LIKE WAR AND PESTILENCE AND THE LOSS OF COMMON SENSE,
IF I CAN WITH CONFIDENCE SAY THAT STILL FOR ANOTHER DAY,
OR EVEN ANOTHER YEAR, I WILL BE THERE FOR YOU, MY DEAR,
IT WILL BE BECAUSE, THOUGH SMALL
AS MEASURED AGAINST THE ALL,
I HAVE BEEN SO INSTINCTIVELY THOROUGH
ABOUT MY CREVICE AND BURROW.
IT'S A SMUG POEM, YOU SEE.