Robert Frost

An Old Man's Winter Night

ALL out of doors looked darkly in at him

Frost's frost

The frost forms 'almost in separate stars'—each crystal catches light individually. This transforms a window coating into something vast and astronomical, making the old man's isolation cosmic rather than merely domestic.

Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was

Age as obstacle

Frost uses age as a *reason* rather than a description. The old man doesn't *choose* to forget what brought him to the room—age itself blocks memory. This is causation, not character.

Age as obstacle

Frost uses age as a *reason* rather than a description. The old man doesn't *choose* to forget what brought him to the room—age itself blocks memory. This is causation, not character.

That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him—at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him

Footsteps as violence

Each time the old man moves, he 'scares' the cellar, the night, the outer world. His presence is intrusive, disruptive—he cannot inhabit space without disturbing it. The repetition of 'scared' emphasizes this pattern.

Footsteps as violence

Each time the old man moves, he 'scares' the cellar, the night, the outer world. His presence is intrusive, disruptive—he cannot inhabit space without disturbing it. The repetition of 'scared' emphasizes this pattern.

In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off;—and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself

Light as burden

The lamp he carries makes him 'a light he was to no one but himself.' His illumination is private, useless to others. This inverts the traditional metaphor of light as guidance or comfort.

Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.

Delegating care

The old man 'consigns' his house to the moon—he transfers responsibility to something indifferent and unreliable. This is surrender disguised as transfer. The moon is 'late-arising' and 'broken,' hardly trustworthy.

He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon

Delegating care

The old man 'consigns' his house to the moon—he transfers responsibility to something indifferent and unreliable. This is surrender disguised as transfer. The moon is 'late-arising' and 'broken,' hardly trustworthy.

As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man—one man—can’t keep a house,

Maintenance as survival

The final couplet reframes the entire poem: keeping a house through winter is the old man's only method of 'keeping' anything at all. The repetition of 'keep' shifts from property to persistence—he keeps himself alive by keeping the house.

A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It’s thus he does it of a winter night.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

Frost's syntax of exhaustion

Frost builds the poem through syntactic delay—answers come late, after obstacles pile up. Notice how many lines begin with 'What kept him' or 'And'—conjunctions that extend rather than conclude. The sentence about the old man standing 'with barrels round him—at a loss' uses dashes to create hesitation, mimicking how the old man himself pauses, uncertain. This isn't stylistic flourish; it's the form of helplessness.

The poem's structure also uses repetition as exhaustion: 'scared' appears three times in quick succession, 'keep' appears four times in the final lines. These aren't poetic devices—they're the sound of someone doing the same motion over and over. By the end, Frost has worn the reader down just as winter wears down the old man.

Isolation as the actual subject

[CONTEXT: Frost wrote this in 1906, after spending winters in rural New Hampshire. The poem reflects real anxiety about aging alone in harsh conditions.] The old man isn't *lonely*—loneliness requires awareness of connection. He's isolated in a more radical sense: he cannot be a light to anyone, cannot keep a farm, cannot even keep himself warm without surrendering to the moon. The poem's title emphasizes *his* winter night, not winter generally—this is personal, not seasonal.

What makes this devastating is Frost's refusal to sentimentalize. The old man doesn't wish for companionship or rage against age. He simply cannot perform the basic work of inhabitation. He clomps, he scares things, he sits in the dark. The final lines—'or if he can, / It's thus he does it'—accept this as the only available method. This isn't tragedy; it's the arithmetic of survival.