Frosts Works.

Acquainted with the Night
BY ROBERT FROST
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain--and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. 
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Quote: Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length - Robert Frost

Paraphrase: The narrator pretty much describes his loneliness as he walks the city streets at night. He has walked beyond the city limits but never found anything to comfort him in his depression. Even when he makes contact with the watchman, he is unwilling to express his feelings because he knows that no one will understand him. At one point he hears a cry from a nearby street, but realizes that it is not meant for him.
Connotation: The word choice Frost uses is very descriptive of what he is feeling, seeing, and especially hearing. The word choice does feel depressing

Attitude: The attitude is very gloomy and depressing.

Shift in the Poem: As you keep reading you really start to realize how depressed and lonely he really is and this is where the shift takes place.

Theme: The theme seems very understanding about how is not that hard to fall into serious depressing.

​‘‘Out, Out-- The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap--
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all--
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart--
He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off--
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!"
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

Paraphrase: Robert Frost’s “‘Out, Out—’” describes a farm accident that unexpectedly costs a young boy his life. As the narrative advances, underlying emotions and

tensions surface as the narrator builds to the poem’s conclusion,  the seemingly senseless, abrupt ending of the boy’s life, followed by his family’s subsequent return to their daily routines.

Connotation: All the words that Frost uses in this poem are have a kind of "rough feel" to them and he shows no desire to keep his audience what is going on in this poem.

Attitude: The attitude is very vague at the beginning but once the boy gets his hand cut off it really turns into an excited, busy tone .

Shift: The shift is so abrupt in this poem I mean it goes from a beautiful day in the woods using the saw to a young boys hand gets cut off.

Theme: The theme of this poem is pointed toward one fact, anything can go wrong at any given time and the consequences can either be better than worse or vise versa.



   

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After Apple-Picking
BY ROBERT FROST
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.

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 Paraphrase: After a long day’s work, the speaker is tired of apple picking. He started to feel drowsy and dreamy since the morning when he looked through a sheet of ice lifted from the surface of a water trough. Now he feels tired, and begins to fall asleep, but wonders whether it is a normal, end-of-the-day sleep or something deeper.

Connotation: There are many words and tones that explain the five senses which contributes to the imagery and feeling of the poem.

Attitude: The speaker seems like he is experiencing a sense of relief but also a feeling of guilt because there were so many apple that fell to the ground.

Shift: To me at first you think that its just a dream but i think that it is a nightmare because he is thinking about how there are so many apples falling off the tree.

Theme: You might call "After Apple-Picking" a  pretty realistic poem.  The poem depicts real-life activities in extreme detail without any direct reference to fantasy or the supernatural. And yet the setting shifts back and forth from place to place as in a dream. 

Quote: The reason why worry kills people than work is that more people worry than work. Robert Frost.

Quote: The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office.
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