Here further up the mountain slope
Than there was every any hope,
My father built, enclosed a spring,
Strung chains of wall round everything,
Subdued the growth of earth to grass,
And brought our various lives to pass.
A dozen girls and boys we were.
The mountain seemed to like the stir,
And made of us a little while–
With always something in her smile.
Today she wouldn’t know our name.
(No girl’s, of course, has stayed the same.)
The mountain pushed us off her knees.
And now her lap is full of trees.

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5 Comments

  1. Ann says:

    This poem was written about the Von Trapp family when they moved to Stowe VT. There were 10 children and Maria and Georg Von Trapp. They all loved the land and forest where they were living and it is a tribute to their life up on the mountain.

  2. Rich says:

    Frost was absolutely Christian. His wife was atheist, but he did not share her atheistic views. The trans substantiation informed his philosophy of natural dualism. Read Peter Stanlis for more.

  3. Terry says:

    Well, Amanda, as Frost, himself, once said, “Poetry permits one possible way to say one thing and mean another.” He really meant to impart profound messages about life and human nature in his poems. Fortunately, he was gifted with a genius for diction and tone that evokes emotion and thought in us as we read them, making his thoughts all the more palatable, evocative, and communicative for us. You are free, of course, to only skim the surface when you read poetry, but you will miss out on a great deal of pleasure and knowledge that is free for the taking. You just have to be willing to meet the poet half way, and the more you try to do it, the easier and more rewarding it will become.

  4. Ami says:

    tO Me ThIs PoEm mEaNs So mAnY DiFfErEnT ThInGs BuT i AlWaYs TaKe It FrOm tHe ChrIsTiAN SiDe. oH aNd FyI fOr A LoT of pRoJeCtS sTuDeNtS hAvE to gEt tO tHe ReAl mEaNiNg I kNoW tHaTs WhAt i HaD To Do fOr mY lAsT PrOjEcT !! x0x

  5. amanda says:

    i really hate how people just rip apart poems to see if there is a “real” meaning. why cant people just read poems and just enjoy them for what it says and not for what they think it says?

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