"If Romeo and Juliet had made appointments to meet, in the moonlight-swept orchard, in all the peril and sweetness of conspiracy, and then more often than not failed to meet - one or the other lagging, or afraid, or busy elsewhere - there world have been no romance, no passion, none of the drama for which we remember and celebrate them. Writing a poem is not so different - it is a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind." - Mary Oliver, A Poetry Handbook
During Monday's Junior Writing Class, students considered the meaning, rhyme scheme, and diction of one of Robert Frost's well-knows poems and played with some meaty vocabulary words like concatenation and sybaritic. Thankfully, the poem's interior didn't match the our spring-like climate - students were able to enjoy class outside, taking advantage of the early warm weather and the sunshine.
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.
- Robert Frost