“It has been frequently remarked that it seems to have been reserved to the people of this country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend for their political constitutions on accident and force.”
Frost’s poems kept a familiar theme throughout the eleven books, with a great majority of each gravitating around nature, rural life, and the struggles of the human condition. Even his name Frost is a portrayal of weather upon nature. His descriptions of specific flowers and foliage and noticing the change of seasons upon a forest floor made me realize I’ve never explored a forest or walked similar steps that Frost has in his poetry. That is now something I wish to experience.
“Nor could its passengers have endured such a thing, because the faster they were carried the less time they had to spare. In the days before deathly contrivances hustled them through their lives, and when they had no telephones – another ancient vacancy profoundly responsible for leisure – they had time for everything: time to think, to talk, time to read, time to wait for a lady.”
I find it fascinating that I’d never heard of Ernest Poole’s novel His Family prior to finding it on the Pulitzer Prize (PP) winners list. Considering this won the first ever PP for Novel (category later changed to Fiction in 1948), one may assume that this book would have appeared in a list of books available to write an essay on in one of my English Composition classes in high school or college, or on a separate list of “Great American Novels”, but neither the name Ernest Poole or his novel His Family had ever entered my lexicon.
Wait, wait I say
Don’t walk away
And leave me to linger all the long day
Unlatch this hook and let me take off
For I am my own creature
And don’t belong in this small cage
I’ve done no crime so long lock me away
To fly high above or run is my gift
It hurts to not stretch or feel the warm breeze
I dream of open sky and the dirt under my feet
To sleep is my only relief
Let me out
Please let me out of here
So I can do what I dare and breathe the fresh air
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