"Out Out -" by Robert Frost
"Out Out -" is a poem written by Robert Frost. This poem quickly turns from happiness to sadness to disgust. The poem begins by describing what could be considered a typical day on a farm and then turns to gruesome when the boy chops off part of his hand and finally dies. However, what truly turns the poem into disgust is when the family seems to not care for too long when they go back to their own affairs.
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This poem is written as one long poem. There are some rhymes in the poem but many may actually be incidental. Nonetheless, there are some.
"Out Out -" The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behing the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside him in her apron To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw, As if it meant to prove saws know what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap - He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all - Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man's work, though a child at heart - He saw all was spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off - The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!" So. The hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then - the watcher at his pulse took a fright. No one believed. They listened to his heart. Little - less - nothing! - and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
Next: The Oven Bird
Find out more information about this poem and read others like it.
Relationship, Death, Work, Sadness