YOU KNOW i HAVE THIS WHOLE THEORY ON frost's stopping by woods on a snowy evening- since you quote it-- if you have any interest, feel free to read my essay below- otherwise totally skip it-- it's pretty off the twin peaks point-- but seeing as how you brought it up-- I could never get a teacher to buy into my theory but perhaps the kind of people that chill on a twin peaks message board...
In his classic poem “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”, Frost employs metaphor to deal with the meditative state of consciousness which must be so important to the life of the poet. This particular mode of being is not merely induced by the narrator’s gaze into the woods, but rather it spreads out until it is indistinguishable from the very woods themselves. Frost looks to capture the essentially human activity wherein the mind is emptied of all thoughts and achieves a state of mere existence.
His opening line, “Whose woods these are I think I know”, introduces us to the situation ironically. It is no accident that the possession of these woods is our first concern. This deep gaze outwards represents a deep gaze inwards; a journey towards a stripped down form of human consciousness. The woods into which our narrator stares are in this sense most certainly his own. However, we are then told, “His house is in the village though”. As in “Mending Wall” the poet deals with divisions of the psyche so deep he feels it necessary to cast them as different people. While the man from the village has oft been said to represent the world of societal obligation (and this is definitely a legitimate way to approach the work), I would go further. This village is meant as a psychic contrast to the sort of meditative state described above, and as such, can be viewed not simply as a world of human obligation, but as the mind’s seat of reason or thought and language. Perhaps concerned over its seeming frivolous, our narrator also indicates shame (“He will not see me stopping here”) at this activity, thereby reinforcing the depth of the psychic schism.
Frost provides the third branch in his anatomy of the soul as we are told, “My little horse must think it queer/ To stop without a farmhouse near”. The horse, who “gives his harness bells a shake” because there seems to be no reason to have stopped, completes the trilogy as the animalistic aspect of the narrator’s psyche. Indeed, the feeling of being pulled from the trance of the woods is as much a part of being human (if perhaps not distinctly human) as the meditation itself.
An expert use of symbolism and alliteration serve to literally conjure the type of pure, blank consciousness the poet has in mind. The time is noted as “The darkest evening of the year” which suggests the deep extent of the narrator’s delve into the trance of the woods. The alliteration of the “s” sound in the lines, “The only other sound’s the sweep/ Of easy wind and downy flake” manifests within the reader the solitude of the moment. Moreover, the sound of “easy wind and downy flake” also proves an interesting clue to the type of consciousness Frost is depicting. Unlike the distinct ring of the “harness bells” which can well be imagined jangling out on a quiet night, “easy wind and downy flake” would not make any perceptible noise. The movement of the falling snow without any accompanying sound mimics the persistence of consciousness in the meditative state, absent any “sound” in the form of thought or concern.
It is worth mentioning the ambiguous closing lines of “Stopping By Woods”. Our narrator has enjoyed his sojourn into a world, as Wallace Stevens describes it in his poem, “Of Mere Being”, “Beyond the last thought”. Yet, his animal instincts to keep moving and stay productive, as well as all the sense of obligation to others implied by the word “promises”, draw him from his inward gaze. The last two lines “And miles to go before I sleep/ And miles to go before I sleep” do appear to invoke the idea of death. The switch in metaphor from watching the woods to sleeping would seem to indicate at least a subtle change in subject matter. It would not be difficult to see death as the next
logical step in a progression from an active mind, to a meditative state free of thought. Indeed, only a denial from the poet himself could persuade us otherwise, and yet that is precisely what we have.