Whose Words These Are I Think I Know

Every married couple has their little areas of disagreement. Toothbrushes. Money. The poetry of Robert Frost.

I won a junior high essay contest by writing about “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” I like the poem. Diana, not so much. She thinks Frost is too sing-songy. We’ve worked through this over the years. Now I can handle the little smile that starts to twitch at the edges of her mouth when Frost comes up in conversation.

Much as we abhor the vandalism done by drunken students to Frost’s former home, given our history with the late poet it was the height of comedy to read that the people who trashed his place must take classes in his poetry as “punishment.” 

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2 thoughts on “Whose Words These Are I Think I Know

  1. Punishment is the word. Looking at the professor’s wordy guff about the poetry as quoted in the article reminds me forcefully of why I decided early on that I would never, ever be an English major.

  2. Yes, he laid it on pretty thick. Since that approach couldn’t possibly appeal to a surly collection of students, I had to wonder if he was carrying on for the benefit of the reporters. His 15 minutes of fame.

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