英文诗歌afterapplepicking.docVIP

No. 1Those poets I read, and reread, in high school, college and in my early twenties have had a more obvious influence on my writing, of course. of these, unquestionably, perhaps inevitably, Robert Frost was my first poet. Frosts influence is so pervasive in American poetry, like Whitmans, as to be beyond assessment. Like the verse of Lewis Carroll, the poetry of Frost has entered my soul. Frosts deceptively plain language, the subtle rhythm of his poetry, his beauty of phrasing, his irony and stoic resolve, are never in stronger evidence than in my favorite Frost poem, After Apple- Picking, which I read first in high school at about the age of fifteen. This poem of surpassing beauty and melancholy had a particular significance for me since I did pick apples, pears, and cherries in my familys fruit orchard, standing on a ladder, though I was never allowed to climb as high as my father on his long two-pointed ladder. I understood from experience how the poets instep arch not only keeps the ache,/ It keeps the pressure of a ladderround. Frost allowed young writers like me to see that the experiences of our domestic, seemingly ordinary lives could be transmuted into worthy art; not Shakespeares exalted kings and queens and nobility, in poetry so refined and intricate it seemed, to young readers, another language entirely, were his subjects, but men, women, children like ourselves. This is a distinctly American poetry, accessible to all. It isnt the content of what we write about but the seriousness and subtlety of our expression of this content that determines the worth of our effort. No. 2That’s the poem that ran through my head as I knelt on the brick path to our front door, tugging dead ferns from the ground and scooping piles of brown pine needles into bags that Neighbor Susan tells us can be any color. The sky is the color of skim milk and it has rained most of the day, but there’s a false warmth to the air that sometimes teases me into thinking this is not l