Robert Frost’s ideal man.

Robert Frost circa 1910
| Born | Robert Lee Frost March 26, 1874(1874-03-26) San Francisco, California, United States |
|---|---|
| Died | January 29, 1963 (aged 88) Boston, Massachusetts, United States |
| Occupation | Poet, Playwright |
Robert Frost had a view of men that is quite different then what is believed today in my opinion. When looking at some of his writings whats seen are the good qualities that every man should have. Qualities that hopefully all men still strive for. Instead of showing just negatives in his poems men are imperfect but striving to be better. What is Robert Frost’s ideal man?
Home Burial, a poem written by Mr. Frost that reads like a scene from an epic movie, details an intense time in the life of a married couple. Their child’s death and burial in the back yard cemetery by the father is not the focus of the poem but the dynamics of the couple’s relationship and its slow slide into ruin takes center stage. The husband shows an eagerness to share the grief that he and his wife are going through but his wife is not willing to share the grief as illustrated here:
“He saw her from the bottom of the stairs / Before she saw him. She was starting down, / Looking back over her shoulder at some fear. / She took a doubtful step and then undid it / To raise herself and look again. He spoke / Advancing toward her: “What is it you see / From up there always?—for I want to know.” / She turned and sank upon her skirts at that, / And her face changed from terrified to dull (1-9).”
Here we see her hide her grief after peering at the burial place of her child. After the husband looks through the window and realizes what his wife sees she quickly leaves his side and races off when he begins to talk about their child. Based on what next is spoken we see that he wanted to talk about his child but his wife has not given him the opportunity. He says “Can’t a man speak of his own child he’s lost (37)?”, to which she replies “Not you! … I don’t know rightly whether any man can (38-40).”
I believe that one of the characteristics of Frost’s ideal man is that he needs to be in tune with his emotions and be able to talk about them.
Another ideal characteristic that Frost shows a man should have is the willingness to learn to communicate. As an example let’s look at the dialogue after his wife says that she does not think that any man can understand the grief with losing a child:
“Amy! Don’t go to someone else this time. / Listen to me. I won’t come down the stairs.” / He sat and fixed his chin between his fists. / “There’s something I should like to ask you, dear.” / “You don’t know how to ask it.” / “Help me, then (41-45).”
Help me then. This is a powerful statement that should not be taken lightly especially because of the context in which it is said. The husband is grieving, the wife is running off to share her grief with someone else again and he wants her to teach him how he should speak that would make her feel better. Good communication is very important in a relationship but yet is so hard to accomplish. In this poem communication in the marriage is broken but the husband is willing to keep working at it.
The last characteristic that I will mention is patience. When reading the poem an understanding that this argument has been happening over and over comes through. The wife has been running away from her husband, unwilling to share her grief with him and unwilling to heal with him. Despite the wife treating the husband as if he has no feelings or a care about their dead child the husband keeps trying to share his grief and his love. At one point on line 68 the husband shares with her how he does not understand how she could throw away their love with her inconsolable grieving. This of course sets her off even more because the last thing she wants to feel is love. Instead she wants wallow in her grief without her husband. Though the poem does not mention of what the child died of it seems that the mother is feeling some guilt, and becuase the husband does not grieve in the same manner they have grown apart.
Robert Frost is an incredible poet that writes poems that bring out feelings as if seeing an intense scene in an epic movie. In the poem Home Burial Mr. Frost show’s an example of what characteristics an ideal man should have. He does not weave a perfect man into the story but definitely let’s shine some great characteristics in the role of the husband. A husband that is in tune with his emotions and can talk about them, a good caring communicator and one of the most important characteristics, patience. These characteristics are timeless just like Frost’s poem.
Robert Frost’s “Home Burial”
| HE saw her from the bottom of the stairs | |
| Before she saw him. She was starting down, | |
| Looking back over her shoulder at some fear. | |
| She took a doubtful step and then undid it | |
| To raise herself and look again. He spoke | 5 |
| Advancing toward her: “What is it you see | |
| From up there always—for I want to know.” | |
| She turned and sank upon her skirts at that, | |
| And her face changed from terrified to dull. | |
| He said to gain time: “What is it you see,” | 10 |
| Mounting until she cowered under him. | |
| “I will find out now—you must tell me, dear.” | |
| She, in her place, refused him any help | |
| With the least stiffening of her neck and silence. | |
| She let him look, sure that he wouldn’t see, | 15 |
| Blind creature; and a while he didn’t see. | |
| But at last he murmured, “Oh,” and again, “Oh.” | |
| “What is it—what?” she said. | |
| “Just that I see.” | |
| “You don’t,” she challenged. “Tell me what it is.” | 20 |
| “The wonder is I didn’t see at once. | |
| I never noticed it from here before. | |
| I must be wonted to it—that’s the reason. | |
| The little graveyard where my people are! | |
| So small the window frames the whole of it. | 25 |
| Not so much larger than a bedroom, is it? | |
| There are three stones of slate and one of marble, | |
| Broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlight | |
| On the sidehill. We haven’t to mind those. | |
| But I understand: it is not the stones, | 30 |
| But the child’s mound——” | |
| “Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,” she cried. | |
| She withdrew shrinking from beneath his arm | |
| That rested on the banister, and slid downstairs; | |
| And turned on him with such a daunting look, | 35 |
| He said twice over before he knew himself: | |
| “Can’t a man speak of his own child he’s lost?” | |
| “Not you! Oh, where’s my hat? Oh, I don’t need it! | |
| I must get out of here. I must get air. | |
| I don’t know rightly whether any man can.” | 40 |
| “Amy! Don’t go to someone else this time. | |
| Listen to me. I won’t come down the stairs.” | |
| He sat and fixed his chin between his fists. | |
| “There’s something I should like to ask you, dear.” | |
| “You don’t know how to ask it.” | 45 |
| “Help me, then.” | |
| Her fingers moved the latch for all reply. | |
| “My words are nearly always an offence. | |
| I don’t know how to speak of anything | |
| So as to please you. But I might be taught | 50 |
| I should suppose. I can’t say I see how. | |
| A man must partly give up being a man | |
| With women-folk. We could have some arrangement | |
| By which I’d bind myself to keep hands off | |
| Anything special you’re a-mind to name. | 55 |
| Though I don’t like such things ’twixt those that love. | |
| Two that don’t love can’t live together without them. | |
| But two that do can’t live together with them.” | |
| She moved the latch a little. “Don’t—don’t go. | |
| Don’t carry it to someone else this time. | 60 |
| Tell me about it if it’s something human. | |
| Let me into your grief. I’m not so much | |
| Unlike other folks as your standing there | |
| Apart would make me out. Give me my chance. | |
| I do think, though, you overdo it a little. | 65 |
| What was it brought you up to think it the thing | |
| To take your mother-loss of a first child | |
| So inconsolably—in the face of love. | |
| You’d think his memory might be satisfied——” | |
| “There you go sneering now!” | 70 |
| “I’m not, I’m not! | |
| You make me angry. I’ll come down to you. | |
| God, what a woman! And it’s come to this, | |
| A man can’t speak of his own child that’s dead.” | |
| “You can’t because you don’t know how. | 75 |
| If you had any feelings, you that dug | |
| With your own hand—how could you?—his little grave; | |
| I saw you from that very window there, | |
| Making the gravel leap and leap in air, | |
| Leap up, like that, like that, and land so lightly | 80 |
| And roll back down the mound beside the hole. | |
| I thought, Who is that man? I didn’t know you. | |
| And I crept down the stairs and up the stairs | |
| To look again, and still your spade kept lifting. | |
| Then you came in. I heard your rumbling voice | 85 |
| Out in the kitchen, and I don’t know why, | |
| But I went near to see with my own eyes. | |
| You could sit there with the stains on your shoes | |
| Of the fresh earth from your own baby’s grave | |
| And talk about your everyday concerns. | 90 |
| You had stood the spade up against the wall | |
| Outside there in the entry, for I saw it.” | |
| “I shall laugh the worst laugh I ever laughed. | |
| I’m cursed. God, if I don’t believe I’m cursed.” | |
| “I can repeat the very words you were saying. | 95 |
| ‘Three foggy mornings and one rainy day | |
| Will rot the best birch fence a man can build.’ | |
| Think of it, talk like that at such a time! | |
| What had how long it takes a birch to rot | |
| To do with what was in the darkened parlour. | 100 |
| You couldn’t care! The nearest friends can go | |
| With anyone to death, comes so far short | |
| They might as well not try to go at all. | |
| No, from the time when one is sick to death, | |
| One is alone, and he dies more alone. | 105 |
| Friends make pretence of following to the grave, | |
| But before one is in it, their minds are turned | |
| And making the best of their way back to life | |
| And living people, and things they understand. | |
| But the world’s evil. I won’t have grief so | 110 |
| If I can change it. Oh, I won’t, I won’t!” | |
| “There, you have said it all and you feel better. | |
| You won’t go now. You’re crying. Close the door. | |
| The heart’s gone out of it: why keep it up. | |
| Amy! There’s someone coming down the road!” | 115 |
| “You—oh, you think the talk is all. I must go— | |
| Somewhere out of this house. How can I make you——” | |
| “If—you—do!” She was opening the door wider. | |
| Where do you mean to go? First tell me that. | |
| I’ll follow and bring you back by force. I will!—” | 120 |