Robert Frost has a complex relationship with nature in his poetry.

Several of the poems demonstrate the complex overtones of life and merit a deep reading.

Introduction
Robert Frost, writing as the narrator in the poems Birches and Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening is comfortable in the countryside and portrays an enjoyment of nature on the surface. When these poems are examined more in depth the narrator becomes much more complex, showing that there is a deeper and darker undertone to the pleasant words and cadences of the poems. The narrator has experienced pain and sorrow during his life and finds that his suffering makes the contemplation of death both fascinating and tempting. Also, the narrator has considered the peacefulness of death but has decided to pursue life and the choices that one faces along the path of life.

Frost and His View of Nature

Initially the poems Birches and Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening show the narrator as a simple man of the countryside. Birches is set too far from town to learn baseball (25). This suggests a place far from town and set deep in the country. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening is set in a remote woods, far from any homes. Each location in the settings of the poems is remote and far from city life. This suggests that the narrator is accustomed to the countryside and its way of life and that he most likely enjoys this type of life. The narrator also has an appreciation of nature. This is immediately evident in the fact that each poem is centered on nature and uses the themes of nature to establish the narrators points. Each poem involves an interaction with nature, such as a ride in the woods and swinging from birch branches. Beyond the interactions with nature, the natural also works to mark moments of emotional significance to the narrator.

Birches recalls a fond memory of swinging from birch branches and also brings to view the narrators desire to experience that freedom again, So was I once myself a swinger of birches./ And so I dream of going back to be (41-42). The narrator also takes a moment to dwell on solitude and a contemplation of life in Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Each poem focuses on a moment in nature and the feelings that the moment evoked in the narrator. Analysis of "Birches" Birches is both reminiscent of boyhood memories and is also contemplative of the hardships of life. The narrator wishes that the birch branches that he sees had been bent by a boy swinging on the branches rather than having been bent by ice. The narrator uses this image of ice to suggest the cruelty of the world, as well as showing that his hopes and desires are not always met. Frost writes, But I was going to say when Truth broke in/ With all her matter-of-fact about the icestorm,/ I should prefer to have some boy bend them (21-23). The previous lines expressed the cold, damaging affects of ice and how it permanently damages the branches of the tree, perhaps symbolizing the pain and suffering a person experiences in life.

The act of swinging from the birch branches is portrayed as being joyful, playful, and innocent. This evokes memories of innocence and happiness. This symbolizes a fond memory for the narrator. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,/ Kicking his way down through the air to the ground, demonstrates the freedom and excitement that the narrator finds in the memory of boyhood (39-40). However, the poem goes on to make allusions towards how difficult and confusing life has become. Frost writes, And life is too much like a pathless wood (44). This line suggests that the narrator has experienced confusion, suffering, and doubt in life and that it is too late to go back to the innocence of boyhood. The narrator contemplates the peacefulness of death but he decides to pursue life. The narrator explains his contemplation, May no fate willfully misunderstand me/ And have grant what I wish and snatch me away/ Not to return. Earths the right place for love (50-52). This poem suggests the complexity of life overall, and also reveals that the author has experienced pain and loss, joy and beauty, and has chosen to take that life for what it is.

Analysis of "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening has a more solemn and subdued tone than Birches. This tone suggests that the author is contemplating a moment of great meaning to him. The woods are quiet, creating an eerie and surreal atmosphere, The only other sounds the sweep/ Of easy wind and downy flake (10-11). The tone and the images of snow suggest the coldness of death, as well as the peace of death. The darkest evening of the year, suggests that this is a special moment of solitude for the narrator (8). The narrator has stopped in the woods in order to contemplate death. Frost writes, The woods are lovely, dark and deep,/ But I have promises to keep, suggesting that he finds death to be enticing but he must go on living (13-14). The repetition of And miles to go before I sleep also suggests that the narrator has a long life he is meant to live yet before he can sleep or die (1516). The repetition also suggests that the narrator is trying to convince himself that he is meant to go on living. This poem is much darker, more directly contemplating death than Birches does. However, both poems end with the decision to carry on with life, suggesting that the narrator is perseverant.

Conclusion
The poems Birches and Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening paint a picture of a man who has endured great suffering and tries to not be obvious about showing it. The poems are both pretty and appear to portray serene pictures on the surface. However, when the lines are examined more deeply the symbols of ice, snow, and cold begin to display a fascination with death. The narrator appears to be a solitary person, comfortable with living in the country, and who exhibits an appreciation of nature. The narrator is both reminiscent and present in the moment in the poems. Perhaps most important though is that in each poem the narrator contemplates death but chooses life.

Stopping by woods Nature creates many beauties for man to observe, but man being burdened with the multitude of tasks to run a family cannot spare his time for sharing the pleasantness nature imbues. In his rush of life he is forced to abandon the easy solaces nature offers which if accepted, would have served as a balm for his mind in flames. Robert Frost's poem Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening shows a glimpse of what treasures man has lost. True, what man forgets first is the beauty of his mother.

Robert Frost was a farmer and poet who had a deep concern for nature. He lived during 18741963. Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening is his world famous poem which appeals to man's desire to be always be with nature. In the poem we see the poet riding a little horse into a snow falling forest in the evening. His sense of beauty tends him to stay but his dominating sense of duty sends him away. The genius of Frost shuttles between dream and reality and finally lands on immediate reality. Perhaps his long American life might have trimmed him on practical lines.

Nature's Cynosures are for all the world to see.

The poet stops by the wood on a snowy evening in Winter. He doesn't know who the owner of the forest is. Judging from the fact that there were no signs of any modern constructions to be seen there, he assumes that the owner of the forest might not be a towns man, but a villager. So far so good. He hopes that the owner will not appear there at that time of heavy snow fall, as he does not wish to be seen tress-passing into private land. Sweet English reserve and shyness. Even though somewhat reluctant to enter a private property, his soul's desire to be with nature tempted him and he entered the forest riding his horse.

All a winter's work for the squirrels and sparrows to see.

All A Winters Work.

Nature's benedictions are man's common asset, limited to no one's ownership. She creates her cynosures for all the world to see, through generations and ages. She creates them not exclusively for humans, but anticipating the admiring eyes of the squirrels, sparrows, peacocks and the marsupials also.

Animal instincts are sharper-tuned to sensing danger than man's.

To Watch The Woods Fill Up With Snow.

Snow heavily falling on the trees and rocks and shrubs will form curious images of strange shapes and sizes. The poet plunges deep into observing their beauty and quite forgets the passing of Time. The horse was more danger-conscious and responsive to surroundings than the poet. Have anyone ever heard about an animal that took it's own life? It became suspicious. What is this fellow on my back doing?

Between the woods and frozen lake.

Between The Woods And Frozen Lake.

Dangers of an ink-black night is ahead. No farm houses are to be seen anywhere nearby. They are standing between an unfriendly wood and a frozen lake where no one will get shelter and can survive. Man and animal can be lost and frozen in this circumstances. Besides, it is the darkest night of the year that is approaching. Is this man on my back having ideas of suicide? Animal instincts are shrper-tuned to sense danger than man's. So thinking such and such, the horse gave his harness bells a shake to ask his master whether there was any mistake. Actually he was asking his master why they were stopping and staying in that unfavourable atmosphere for long.

The Tiny Little Boy with Hay-ho, the Wind and the Rain.

Forage is scarce in winter, so a long neck.

The sound of the horse-bells were heard distinctly against the only other background sound there, the swish-swishing sound of the easily-flowing wind sweeping against the incessantly down-falling snow. The exquisiteness of the description here reminds the readers of another master craftsman. In The Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare, there is a little song sung by the clown: 'When that I was a tiny little boy, With hay- ho, the wind and the rain.' Everyone knows the wind and the rain, but who is this Mr. Hay-Ho? Critics have long debated who this Hay Ho is. It is very simple. Every little child knows Hay Ho; it is the combined effect of sound caused by wind on the rain personified. When wind blows against a green paddy field and the long lines of grass bow their heads in row after row, Hay Ho is present there. When we walk along a tar road while the rain comes down in torrents and the wind sweeps heavily against the rain, then again we can see Hay Ho on the road, coming towards us and going away from us. Hay Ho is indeed something to a tiny little boy and also for the poets. One is always the other. An exactly similar beauty with words is created here by Frost, in describing in vivid and suggestive words the swish-swishing of the wind and the rain in the snow-filled forest.

One single line written across the face of Time: How far to go before rest?

Miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go.....

The timely sound of his horse-bells roused the master to reality and reminded him of his immediate duties. Thus rightly inspired, the poet continues on his journey, singing those famous lines which made this song immortal. '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.'

An admirer of Robert Frost from across the oceans.

The woods are lovely, But I have promises to keep.

The sleep referred to here is the final sleep. These are lines written across Time, to inspire the world through ages. It is not certain whoever were inspired, excited and intoxicated with these lines. But it is known, the famous author of books such as Glimpses Of World History and The Discovery Of India and the first Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru, wrote them down on his walls to be seen always.

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.

BIRCHES Mountain Interval1916When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed

So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground, Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm, I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows-Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only play was what he found himself, Summer or winter, and could play alone. One by one he subdued his father's trees By riding them down over and over again Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better. I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.