Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, "Good fences make good neighbours."
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbours."
Robert Frost's "Mending Wall" stands as a quintessential example of American poetry, embodying the complexities of human relationships, tradition, and the natural world. This deceptively simple narrative poem, first published in 1914, has become one of Frost's most widely anthologized works, and for good reason. Its exploration of boundaries—both physical and metaphorical—resonates deeply with readers across generations, inviting multiple interpretations and sparking endless debates about its true meaning.
At its core, "Mending Wall" presents a seemingly straightforward account of two neighbors engaged in the annual ritual of repairing a stone wall that separates their properties. However, beneath this surface lies a rich tapestry of themes, ironies, and philosophical questions that have captivated scholars and casual readers alike for over a century. This essay aims to unravel the intricacies of Frost's masterpiece, examining its formal structure, thematic depth, and enduring relevance in the modern world.
Frost's choice of blank verse for "Mending Wall" is particularly fitting for a poem that grapples with tradition and innovation. The iambic pentameter provides a steady, almost meditative rhythm that mirrors the act of wall-mending itself. This traditional meter, however, is frequently disrupted by variations in stress and caesura, reflecting the narrator's questioning of established norms.
The poem's 45 lines form a single, unbroken stanza—a structure that ironically contrasts with the very subject of the poem. Where the wall creates division, Frost's verse flows continuously, suggesting an underlying unity or interconnectedness that transcends artificial boundaries. This tension between form and content is a hallmark of Frost's work and contributes significantly to the poem's complexity.
Frost's use of enjambment throughout the poem is particularly noteworthy. Lines such as "Something there is that doesn't love a wall, / That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it" create a sense of movement and continuity, mirroring the natural forces that work against the wall's stability. This technique also serves to blur the boundaries between lines, further underscoring the poem's thematic concerns.
The central image of the wall serves as a powerful symbol throughout the poem, representing not only physical boundaries but also the psychological and social barriers that humans construct between themselves. Frost's vivid descriptions of the wall-mending process—"To each the boulders that have fallen to each"—bring this symbol to life, grounding abstract concepts in tangible, relatable experiences.
Nature plays a crucial role in the poem's imagery. The "frozen-ground-swell" and "spring mending-time" evoke the cyclical patterns of the natural world, suggesting that the need for boundaries (and their inevitable breakdown) is a fundamental aspect of existence. The contrasting images of the narrator's "apple orchard" and his neighbor's "pine" trees further emphasize the theme of difference and separation.
The mysterious "Something" that "doesn't love a wall" is perhaps the poem's most intriguing symbol. Its ambiguous nature—"It's not elves exactly"—invites multiple interpretations. Some scholars view it as a representation of natural forces, while others see it as a metaphor for human curiosity or the impulse toward freedom and connection.
At its heart, "Mending Wall" is a meditation on the nature of boundaries and the human impulse to both create and question them. The narrator's skepticism about the wall's necessity—"'Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't it / Where there are cows? But here there are no cows'"—stands in stark contrast to his neighbor's unquestioning adherence to tradition, encapsulated in the repeated phrase, "Good fences make good neighbours."
This conflict between innovation and tradition, between questioning and acceptance, forms the core tension of the poem. Frost does not provide easy answers, instead inviting readers to grapple with these complex issues themselves. The narrator's playful suggestion of "elves" as the force behind the wall's decay hints at a desire for magic or mystery in a world increasingly dominated by rational thought.
The poem also explores the theme of communication and its limitations. Despite their annual collaboration, the two neighbors remain fundamentally separated, not just by the physical wall but by their differing worldviews. The narrator's inability to convince his neighbor to question the wall's necessity highlights the challenges of bridging ideological divides.
Frost's masterful use of irony adds layers of complexity to "Mending Wall." The most obvious irony lies in the fact that the very act of mending the wall brings the neighbors together, contradicting the idea that "Good fences make good neighbours." This irony is compounded by the narrator's simultaneous questioning of the wall's purpose and his active participation in its maintenance.
The poem's final image of the neighbor as "an old-stone savage armed" introduces a note of potential menace, complicating our understanding of the relationship between the two men. This description, coupled with the line "He moves in darkness as it seems to me," suggests a deeper, more insidious form of separation that goes beyond mere physical boundaries.
Ambiguity permeates the poem, from the undefined "Something" that doesn't love a wall to the ultimate meaning of the neighbor's maxim. This deliberate lack of clarity invites readers to bring their own experiences and interpretations to the text, ensuring the poem's continued relevance and ability to spark discussion.
While "Mending Wall" can be read as a timeless exploration of human nature, it is also deeply rooted in its historical and cultural context. Published on the eve of World War I, the poem's preoccupation with boundaries and division takes on added significance. The contrast between the narrator's questioning attitude and his neighbor's rigid adherence to tradition can be seen as reflecting broader societal tensions of the early 20th century.
The rural New England setting, typical of much of Frost's work, provides a specific backdrop against which universal themes are explored. The annual ritual of wall-mending speaks to the agrarian traditions of the region, while also serving as a metaphor for the maintenance of social and cultural norms.
"Mending Wall" stands as a testament to Robert Frost's poetic genius, offering a deceptively simple narrative that opens up into a world of complex ideas and emotions. Through its masterful blend of form and content, vivid imagery, and nuanced exploration of themes, the poem continues to challenge and inspire readers more than a century after its publication.
The enduring power of "Mending Wall" lies in its ability to speak to fundamental aspects of the human experience—our need for connection and separation, our struggle between tradition and progress, and our endless questioning of the structures that shape our lives. As we grapple with these issues in our increasingly interconnected yet divided world, Frost's poem offers no easy answers but instead invites us to engage in the difficult, necessary work of examining our own walls and fences.
In the end, perhaps the greatest achievement of "Mending Wall" is its demonstration that poetry itself can serve as a kind of mending—a way of bringing people together across the boundaries of time, culture, and individual experience. Through the shared act of reading and interpreting Frost's words, we engage in our own form of wall-mending, continuously reconstructing and reexamining the boundaries of our understanding.