Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we can find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need a wall:
He is all pine and I am all apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old stone-savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Does nature approve of barriers? Given the chance it seems the power of nature would destroy the lines we draw between ourselves and others, these lines claiming what we perceive to be our own. As the neighbors meet to rebuild the fence between them, it is the only time of year they are together and the purpose is to create separation from the other. As one of the neighbors realizes the absurdity of this work and suggests the labor is unnecessary as neither wishes to take anything from the other that is not theirs. The apple tree says to the Christmas tree we have no need for what you claim and yet the Christmas tree guy still says, “Good fences make good neighbors” Frost questions the cliché, is it something “good?” He considers the placing of barriers between people and recognizes them as an obstacle to building trusting relationships. As he considers asking the neighbor, “Do you even really know me or better do you know who I could be to you?” Not just the man who borders your property I could prove to you people can be trusted and valuable in your relation to it. As he thinks it over he is once again met with the saying, “Good fences, make good neighbors.” Do they? I think Good fences make good strangers, create mistrust and seperate us from what could be some of the best human experiences in life.
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