Actually, however, Frost was born in San Francisco; he did not move East with his widowed mother until he was eleven, and he spent most of his adolescence in Lawrence, an industrialized Massachusetts mill town. Between and he married Elinor Miriam White and began raising his family while he worked in mills, taught school, and attended Dartmouth College and Harvard University.
The poem, Home Burial by Robert Frostopens with Amy, a woman whose son has recently died, about to come down to the stairs from her room. Amy is looking at something in fear.
The husband advances towards her and asks what it is that she keeps always looking at from there. He insists on knowing about it, Amy turns and bends on her knees. Her face, which looked terrified till now, becomes dull-looking. You can also read the poem in full here.
He said to gain time: He mounts the stairs just above her, and asks her to tell him about the object, because he will anyhow find it out.
Amy remains silent, and does not help him by telling him. She lets him look and find for himself, thinking that he would not be able to see or find what it was that she has kept looking at.
Thinking him to be blind to her feelings and troubles, she is sure that he cannot find anything. For a moment, the husband cannot see anything.
Amy asks what it is, the husband says that now we can see it. Amy remarks to him that he cannot find out what is there she looks at, and challenges him to tell her, if he knows, what he has found out. The husband says to Amy that it is a surprising thing that he could not guess earlier about what it was she looked at.
Since he was accustomed to looking at the object and other things, he never noticed it particularly. It was the small graveyard or burial plot where his people were buried.
The graveyard is so small that the whole of it can be seen through the widow. It is not larger than a bedroom. However, they need not pay attention to these. She turns to him and casts a fearful glance at him. He asks her twice whether a man is not entitled to speak about his own dead child.
Amy replies that at least he has no such right. Then she asks about her hat and tells her husband that she was to go out of that place so as to get air in the open.
She also remarks that she does not definitely know whether any insensitive man has the right to talk about this matter. The husband asks Amy not to go to anyone else, but to listen to him. Saying that he will not come down the stairs, he sits there putting his chin between his fists.
He tells her that he wants to ask her something. Amy replies that he does not know how to ask it.Compare the neighbors in Mending Walland The Ax-Helve_ -Robert Frost.
I have to Develop an essay of to words minimum/maximum with an introduction, body, and conclusion. The Ax-Helve is a famous poem by Robert Frost.
I've known ere now an interfering branchOf alder catch my lifted ax behind vetconnexx.com that was in the woods, to hold my handFrom striking.
Robert Frost Robert Frost is one of the most popular of American poets and remains widely read. His work is deceptively simple, but reveals its complexities upon close reading.
This Introduction provides a comprehensive but intensive look at his remarkable oeuvre. The poetry is discussed in detail.
Robert Frost () Throughout his career, Robert Frost skillfully assumed the persona of a New England farmer-poet. Actually, however, Frost was born in San Francisco; he did not move East with his widowed mother until he was eleven, and he spent most of his adolescence in Lawrence, an industrialized Massachusetts mill town.
In what ways does ‘The Ax-Helve’ leave the reader in the dark? 3. In an interview in , a year before ‘The Ax-Helve’ was published, Frost said: You know the Canadian woodchoppers whittle their ax-handles, following the curve of the grain, and they’re strong and beautiful.
Art should follow lines in nature, like the grain of an ax-handle. The Ax-helve by Robert Frost poem text and resources. Hundreds of famous, classical poems to browse, study, or send to a friend. Send some poems to a friend - the love thought that counts!
Poems for the People - Poems by the People: The Ax-helve by Robert Frost. Your Response Panel.