Robert Frost once said, “I am not a teacher but an awakener.” I have tried to bring a bit of awakening into my teaching, even in this era of everything-for-the-test. I think poetry is one of the great awakeners for children.
Twenty-five years ago or so I attended a lecture by the late John Ciardi, a fine poet himself and one of my favorite children's poets. (I'll probably eventually post "Mummy Slept Late and Daddy Fixed Breakfast" -- it's another annual ritual in my class.) He spoke about the process of poetry writing. One of the poems he used as an example was the famous topic of this post, another poem that I, like most of the other teachers in the universe, recite to my students every year.
John Ciardi
Ciardi spoke the first stanza.
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.
Frost has a setting, the beginnings a rhyme scheme - know, though, here, snow - AABA, and a definite rhythm -- dadah dadah dadah dadah. He could just finish a little poem with three rhyming lines per four line stanza and do just fine. But look at the trouble he makes for himself with the next line:
My little horse must think it queer
Look at that! He tacks the B rhyme into the second stanza. What's he up to?
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 has created a puzzle. Now a definite pattern has begun: AABA then BBCB - soooo the next stanza oughta rhyme how? That's right, CCDC! He is creating a little rhyming hook to the next stanza with each third line.
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.
Yep, there it is, sure enough! (Can't you feel the easy wind in all those S sounds and can't you see that snowflake falling in the rhythm of the last two lines?) He has continued the pattern.
But wait a minute -- this poem doesn't feel like it's gonna be some sort of epic, does it? He's gotta end it soon. How's he gonna do that?!! He's trapped by this crazy rhyme scheme. I guess he could tie the last stanza to the first (DDAD), but there have been a lot of words over the dam since "snow".
Well, Frost comes up with it: the perfect solution, just a little simple repetition:
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.
You can feel the sigh between the last two lines, can't you? That little trick may never work again, but here it's perfect.
What it comes down to is: Robert Frost had fun writing this poem. He made a puzzle for himself and he solved it. He has painted a little word picture. And it's just right. Another dab of color would ruin it: one dab less would make it incomplete.
We can have fun with our poems too.
Robert FrostStopping 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.
-Robert Frost
I doubt that I have done Ciardi justice, but that's the gist. And, believe it or not, nine- and ten-year-olds pay attention to that little discussion. Even the least motivated and the most hyperactive hang on Frost's words and consider Ciardi's ideas.
There is such power in just-the-right-words that even rambunctious fourth-graders notice it.
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Previous poems in this series:
Oh, Frabjous Day!
