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Comment 8 of 78, added on March 20th, 2012 at 5:25 PM.
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Comment 7 of 78, added on March 7th, 2012 at 5:55 PM.
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Comment 6 of 78, added on June 6th, 2007 at 6:59 AM.
LoA corrected the error in the 2nd edition. Whoever entered the poem here
must have copied it from a 1st edition.
I didn't know about the Acton, Minnesota, connection. I just assumed it was
one of the New England Actons, probably Massachusetts.
from United States
Comment 5 of 78, added on June 4th, 2007 at 12:01 AM.
well, if Frost did in fact write "Acton" and it is referring to the Dakota
Wars of 1862 and the massacre of white settlers near Acton, Minnesota, that
adds a new depth of comprehension.
Comment 4 of 78, added on June 3rd, 2007 at 6:43 PM.
"Acton," not "Action," in line 2. The name of the town is Acton. The
"Action" misprint appears in the Library of America edition of Frost, from
which this version appears to have been copied.
from United States
Comment 3 of 78, added on May 31st, 2007 at 5:06 PM.
It makes sense to me, and itís all too real and gruesome. You can call the
miller genuine, that he earned all he has by the sweat of his brow and work
of his own hands. PC mentality has gone much too far, but is the backlash
wherein it is implicitly accepted as OK to be a racist any better for our
society? Is the millerís smugness and revulsion toward John justifiable?
Does anything on the face of this earth justify the gruesome murder of a
person simply because one feels that they are better than another and find
that other disgusting? The way I read this, the miller murders John by
pushing him down into the wheel pit, and feels not one crumb of remorse for
the deed. I love Frostís work, but sometimes I find the depths of darkness
into which he delves disturbing, and this is one of his darkest.
Kurt W from United States
Comment 2 of 78, added on May 11th, 2007 at 7:51 AM.
This is simply about an authentic life -- the miller dislikes the Indian
and his poses because the miller is the authentic one here. The one who
has lived with the fish and made his living through the scruff of his hands
and he's contemptuous of the ones who constantly look back at something
they imagine they know about the past or how they were wronged. The poem
pre-dates the oppressive P.C. days of America and gets at a Yankee truth
which despises the "Poor Me" mentality as much as the "I am somehow
Comment 1 of 78, added on May 10th, 2007 at 7:06 PM.
Truthfully, this poem didn't make sense to me.
Jessica Graham from United States
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