Melancholy, Mysterious Musings
From the first notes of ambiguity to the rolling, unrhymed blank verse to the wistful bittersweetness of his subject, this poem is classic Frost. His language is both plain and nuanced.
Plus, we've got that telltale New Englandy setting that Frost was so fond of. What can we say? The dude loved his apple trees. And his country roads. And his babbling brooks.