"Birches" by Robert Frost is a poem that soely revolves around fantasy and imagination in my opinion. Though Frost knows that the Birches were hung over by a snowstorm and ice that enveloped the tree and dragged it down he still prefers to believe that it was dragged down by a little boy. This boy was considered isolated and lonely, too far from baseball or other interactions. He did his chores hence being accomanied by cows and found playtime in the most basic of things. He had to rely on himself for fun and that fun relied heavily on his imagination. I hunched and later come to realize that this boy is in fact Frost himself and it was an opening, background material if you will for his true meaning. Rebirth to innocence. He longs for the days of his childhood. Where he was innocent non worldy and life revolved around plaing and housework. The days when his biggest concern was what he will play today. He begs to not be misunderstood for Frost says there is no better place for love then earth but he wishes to reach death and come back anew. Reborn to a child and once again swing on those birch trees. Once again really live.
I feel this means to really live because as a dults we have responsibilites. Some we force on ourselves others we are given by society but truth be told did we not live life to its fullest as children? We appreciated the beauty and nature around us, interacted with it even rather then ignoring it as the jaded adults we are. We used our imaginations not pure fact and focus. We lived and played, criied and got hurt but we always went back outside and played again no matter the consequences. It was innocence in its purest form for we lacked imagination. Who doesn't wish they could return to that?
