Julia Schwartz

January 11, 2004

For Once, Then, Something

            In this poem, Frost seems vulnerable. The reader gets the impression that Frost has had a momentary glimpse of the truth of his own life, but was afraid to realize what that truth was (“the too clear water”). Yet despite this doubt – or fear – Frost seems to appreciate that he finally saw something of depth within the deeps of the pond (“for once, then, something”).

            The main image within this poem is a beautiful, small, hidden pond, perhaps in the woods somewhere. Frost is clearly in a position of solitude as he experiences his moment of self-revelation. I see him gazing at the pond, and as his eyes begin to drift out of focus and into truth, he sees his own image, reflected in the pond, yet then, he floats away, and the water becomes clear, so he sees something at the bottom. That object at the bottom is unknown, ethereal – a pebble or truth, he says.

            I’m unsure as to what “truth” actually represents to Frost. It could be a realization about himself, borne out of his solitude in the wilderness and his devotion to the lake’s reflection (a la Thoreau), or it merely could be that pebble, which has somehow revealed a missing piece of the puzzle of Frost’s life to him. Either way, the sight he sees at the bottom of the pond has an impact on him – or else he would not have written the poem. Regardless of what the true nature of that bit of truth at the bottom of the pool was, Frost’s mind was urged to consider the meaning of life, the meaning of his life, or the meaning of being. That is why the true identity of the object does matter: that down there was “something,”  and “something” inflicted a change upon Frost.   

            A little glimpse of something is indeed sometimes all we need to realize something new about our lives – truth, existence, perception, deep sight, or merely sight in the first place. We must realize to know, and knowing is the vital component of a deeper existence. Without the realization of something that goes beyond him – the “whiteness,” in this case – Frost would still be nothing in the world except himself – “godlike.” The sight of the whiteness reminds Frost of his individualism in the world, of being one component of a world of beings. He is not the center of it all; he is no god; the pool stops reflecting him, and begins to reflect itself – its own identity, not another expression of his. Here, Frost sees something of true depth for once, throwing him into a world of thought and contemplation.