Robert Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

This poem is an amazing work of art. In this poem it speaks about a river and how strong it was. The river was in nature before the nature there was destroyed for a fancy street. The deeper meaning would be that people destroy majestic, beautiful things for things they believe is important and gorgeous in its own way. The farmhouse was there when the river was there, I am assuming. It represents time and it has watched what has happened in a resigned exasperated way. We destroy things that may be better than the things we kill them for. It may have related to the holocaust but that is how I relate it to my life.

Hi
Wow you all got pretty riled up about Dimitri's interesting interpretation. However the poem was first published in a 1924 collection, pre-dating the camps. I think it really may be about a brook being polluted and buried by city growth. But Dimitri, your interpretation will haunt me.

Hey Adolf-I wish it was your family getting killed you prick
Jake-Yours too
You people have no respect
How do you hate on Jews because we're prosperous and wealthy?
You have no one else to blame but yourselves for being bitter failures.

I completely agree with you Mr. Hitler, I remember those days, all those jews that died cause they were stupid fags

I find the depth of Frost's poems in the fact that it seems to me that he is at the same time referring very observing a very natural event in New England farm life, an observation on our relationship with the wild and old ways, and alluding to our relationship with that which is wild and and natural in our own souls and psyches. How we age, what we fear, how we relate to death and other people. Each poem can be read quite well in any of these ways.

This poem can be read alongside Hyla Brook as a fine example of Frost's empathy with nature, which we exploit at our cost. As always, Frost was way ahead of his time.

I love this poem. Rather than speaking of the Holocaust, I believe that it speaks of the power and strength of living an authentic life not ruled by fear. The metaphor of a constant stream of true self which underlies cement walks of civilization which would keep us from our true destiny is one that I find very compelling.

I honestly hate this poem. This poem brings me back to the time of the Holocaust. Jews were being burned alive and incarcerated while the Germans just sat back watched this disaster happen. Please remove this poem from this website.