Survey of major writers of the twentieth century

Frost's Wasteland

WAITING AFIELD AT DUSK: FROST'S PRIVATE WASTELAND

Robert Frost's abiding depression is seen throughout his work. His state of mind reveals itself in many of his poems, his choice of words and rhythm creating a melancholy feeling in the reader. Frost often uses the imagery of nature to illustrate his sense of hopelessness and sadness during different stages of his life. The seemingly hollow vacuum created by his despair establishes the quality of "wasteland" that comes through in his writing.

The famous poem, Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening is often analyzed as a suicidal outcry, written in desperation by Frost. But another early poem, Waiting - Afield at Dusk, was apparently written during a time when the woman he loved was absent from his life. In this poem, again, Frost uses the imagery of nature to explore his deepest feelings and in a rich way, reveal his sense of emptiness.

He moves "spectre-like," or as a ghost of himself, alone upon the stubble field - a field whose thriving crop has been, literally, cut short. He describes the tall haycocks as lightly piled, almost dreamlike, instead of tall and strong, or as a healthy harvest. The voices of the laborers who earlier harvested the hay have "died" and by sitting in the "antiphony," Frost provides the impact of the contrasting stark silence in which he now sits.

Frost's dreaming upon "the opposing lights of the hour, preventing shadow until the moon prevail," paint the picture of a man who is in a state of inertia, one who is almost blankly contemplating the nighthawks who are circling with "vague unearthly cry." He notes that the bats that are too "purblind," or lacking in insight, to discover and acknowledge his presence, perhaps an analogy to his neglectful lover.

Rather than noticing the fragrance of the newly cut hay, the "abyss" of odor at his back indicates the wasteland that Frost perceives the hay field to be. He observes that the last evening swallow, although intermittently silenced by Frost's presence and rustle, finds its voice again on its "last sweep." These words do not evoke joy or vibrancy, but instead suggest something worse than discomfort - a numbness of spirit that exists in a wasteland of such gloomy depths that it implies an empty stoniness of the heart.

The poet has brought along to the hay field a book of old treasured songs, not to read and reminisce, but to hold and "freshen in this air of withering sweetness." The songs must hold some former joy for him, but he holds the book only for the memory of the person who is absent, the person for whom he is writing this poem. The withering sweetness may imply that, although once happy with this person, her absence has withered the sweetness of their relationship. He has brought the book with him as a bitter reminder, hoping to sweeten it in his sad contemplation.