25 April 2024

There are no ends or beginnings - there are only middles


I recently encountered an extended review of a "new American poet" -
A short time ago I found on a London bookstall an odd number of The Poetry Review, with examples of and comments on “Modern American Poets,”—examples which whetted my curiosity...a literary friend chanced to place in my hands a slim green volume, North of Boston, by Robert Frost. I read it, and reread it. It seemed to me that this poet was destined to take a permanent place in American literature. I asked myself why this book was issued by an English and not by an American publisher. And to this question I have found no answer. I may add here, in parenthesis, that I know nothing of Mr. Robert Frost save the three or four particulars I gleaned from the English friend who sent me North of Boston... He is a master of his exacting medium, blank verse,—a new master.”
I was startled to see the review accompanied by a line drawing of Robert Frost, and  then realized the review was a reprint of one originally written in August of 1915.  

The review not surprisingly cites "Mending Wall" and "The Death of the Hired Man," but I realized there were poems cited that were unfamiliar to me, so I requested the book from our library, and in perusing it found this somewhat startling turn of phrase:
"Ends and beginnings - there are no such things.
There are only middles."
"In the Home Stretch"
It seemed to be incorrect, until I remembered a comment offered by a reader recently citing October 7 as the "beginning" of the current middle-East conflict.  Then I tried to think about the true "beginning" of WWII or the American Civil War (and whether such wars ever have "ends" or just change form)...  Thus the title of this post and a thought I'm still turning over in my mind.

Herewith some other excerpts from poems in Frost's original anthology:
"Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast."
"Mending Wall"

"Home is the place where, when you  have to go there,
They have to take you in."
"The Death of the Hired Man"

"It's rest I want - there, I have said it out -
From cooking meals for hungry hired men
And washing dishes after them - from doing
Things over and over that just won't stay done."
"A Servant to Servants"

For, dear me, why abandon a belief
Merely because it ceases to be true.
Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt
It will turn true again, for so it goes. 
Most of the change we think we see in life
Is due to truths being in and out of favor." 
"The Black Cottage"

"If one by one we counted people out
For the least sin, it wouldn't take us long
To get so we had no one left to live with.
For to be social is to be forgiving."
"The Star Splitter"
Comments welcome about Frost, poetry, and the existence (or not) of absolute beginnings and endings, but no comments about war please...

11 comments:

  1. I have loved Robert Frost since reading him in high school in Toronto. He was very wise.

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  2. I'm sticking with the idea that the Frost heaves which break apart New England's stone walls were named after the man himself.

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  3. With all due respect to a very wise Frost...
    A human life has a beginning whether you feel it starts at candy/flowers/alcohol or at birth.
    It also has an end. I won’t buy descendants are an extension of that life, they have their own ends.
    Also I heard repeatedly my mothers patience had an end, not sure about a beginning though.
    xoxoxoBruce

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    1. But (also with due respect) I would argue that that human life began before the candy/flowers/alcohol with the circumstances under which the male and female met, which resulted from choices their parents made about where to live, which resulted (eventually) from walking upright on the plains of Africa and before that. I could argue that a legacy is the extension of a life (Robert Frost is dead but his thoughts are still influencing me and others).

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    2. Agreed with you and Mr. Frost, Stan. You can measure the beginnings and ends by birth and death. However they seem to start in someone else's middle. Lives are, generally, simply the middles of other people's starts and finishes. Of course this idea is not limited to people; corporations, animals, the life of a car, appliance, technology, etc. :)

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  4. Love this, Stan.

    Deeper down in Mending Wall, this one gets me, like, emotional:

    My apple trees will never get across
    And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
    He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
    Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
    If I could put a notion in his head:
    ‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
    Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
    Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
    What I was walling in or walling out,
    And to whom I was like to give offense.

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  5. Also, I just read Star Splitter for the first time just now. And it's hilarious. Damn. If I had one iota of Frost's observational gusto.

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  6. Nope, a sandwich has a first bite and last bite, beginning and end. The ingredients and assembly have their own lives. The sandwich and the bread have a relationship, just as people have relationships but the existence of each, as with people, is singular and finite. People who you encounter ( and some you don't) often have a profound influence on your thinking and your actions but it's still your life, beginning to end
    xoxoxoBruce

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    1. Greetings, Bruce. We all know you can bite sandwiches, but the question was about beginnings and ends. Tell me please: what moment/activity defined the "beginning of the sandwich". When did it go from not being a sandwich to being a sandwich?
      xoxoxoSealion (https://tywkiwdbi.blogspot.com/2023/05/word-for-day-sealioning.html)

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    2. When it's on the plate ready to eat it's a sandwich. Prior it's ingredients. After it's nutrition. This is why philosophers don't do meaningful work, they can't see beginnings or ends. OK, I'll go away.
      xoxoxoBruce

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  7. But yield who will to their separation, my object in living is to unite
    My avocation and my vocation, as my two eyes make one in sight.
    Only when love and need are one, and the world is play for mortal stakes,
    Is the deed ever truly done, for heaven and the future's sakes.
    - Two Tramps in Mud Time

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