It was a year ago this weekend that Robert Frost’s Banjo began—tomorrow is the “official” anniversary. That being the case, the Weekly Poem pretty much had to be by Robert Frost, right?
“Tree At My Window” comes from Frost’s 1928 West-Running Brook, & as I understand it was inspired by a tree on his New Hampshire farm. I’m always fascinated by poetry in which the poet finds his/her internal self echoing in the landscape (& vice-versa), & this poem is a good example of that repetition of internal & external landscapes. Of course, as is typical of Frost, the poem is a very good example of understatement, & also is informed by a wry, if somewhat dark, humor.
Hope you enjoy this—tomorrow, some original music for the actual anniversary; you can pretty much bet the banjo will be involved!
Tree At My Window
Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.
Robert Frost