Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

 

2019 begins with the promise of an empty page, ready for us to write our stories. 

And our stories start with a momentous gift – the tale of blustery winter evening.

One of the most famous American poems, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, entered the public domain January 1, 2019. 

 

Our Gift

It was supposed to become public property in 1998, seventy-five years after Robert Frost published it in 1923.  I’ll spare you the details of how a lobbying campaign extended the protections of many early works for an additional 20 years.  You wouldn’t be surprised to learn that it was led by the Walt Disney Co. (Mickey Mouse was created in 1928). 

But today, for the first time, any one of us can reproduce Frost’s masterpiece without permission or restriction.

 

The Story Behind the Story

Frost was struggling to complete a different, longer poem.  He wrestled with it all night.  And in the morning, he stepped outside, bleary eyed, to watch the sunrise.

But instead of a summer sunrise, his mind envisaged a snowy evening in a deep, dark woods.  He wrote the poem in minutes, as if he’d had a hallucination. 

The poem was included in his Pulitzer Prize winning volume, New Hampshire.  And the rest is history…  Or high school English, if you’re like me.  Even as a teenager, the poem’s haunting theme made a lasting impression.  I can see myself in the narrator’s position, lingering beside the woods as they fill with snow.

 

Why Should You Care?

I’ve written before about journaling, bushcraft’s version of literature.  It will make you a better outdoorsman.  And you don’t need to be an artist or a poet.  All you need is a keen eye and a love of nature.

Robert Frost’s poem is as good a journal entry as you can imagine.  He captures the situation, his perception, and the action going on around him.  The poem concludes with his awe-inspiring, and now famous thoughts.

 

Here’s the Poem

So, without further ado, here’s the famous poem.  And immediately below it is a video of the author himself, reading his masterpiece. 

 

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.

 

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