the aim was song by robert frost

This is 'The Aim Was Song' by Robert Frost with some thoughts at the end

Before man came to blow it right

     The wind once blew itself untaught,

And did its loudest day and night

     In any rough place where it caught.

 

Man came to tell it what was wrong:

     It hadn’t found the place to blow;

It blew too hard—the aim was song.

     And listen—how it ought to go!

 

He took a little in his mouth,

     And held it long enough for north

To be converted into south,

     And then by measure blew it forth.

 

By measure. It was word and note,

     The wind the wind had meant to be—

A little through the lips and throat.

     The aim was song—the wind could see.

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Let me start off by saying that I consider myself a fan of Mr. Frost. I know he's a pretty mainstream pick. An old dead white guy to be sure but the man had some chops. I'll give him that. And I don't like to be negative. There's no shortage of negativity. I'd prefer to highlight something positive but well, here we are.

I was looking through a list of Robert's poems on the trusty poetryfoundation.org and the title 'The Aim Was Song' jumped out at me. This looks good, I thought. Maybe it'll be a poem about how people toil their lives away over serious matters and we should aim to experience life like a song, a time well spent.

But instead we get the GALL and AUDACITY of capital-M MAN telling the WIND how to BLOW! Man telling the wind how to do its job?!?! Mr. Frost you should be ashamed. 

And I did think to myself, wait is there some subtle irony here that I'm not picking up? So I did the due diligence of a google about the themes and NO IRONY WAS FOUND!

I would not expect the keen eye and sharp wit of Bobert T. Frost to succumb to such enlightenment-era man is a rational creature PROPAGANDA! 

Gross. Gross Gross Gross.

A man showing the wind what a song is. This is poisonous drivel through and through. I'm beside myself with rage at this poem. There must be sarcasm somewhere in it. 

I just--there's a very long but straight line you could draw between the ideas in this poem and all of the evils of modern society that is destroying the world we need to survive while also making it increasingly miserable. Man telling the wind how to make a song. Oh yeah while I'm at it let me tell all the coal and oil how to not be in the ground. And let me tell all the forests and fields and meadows how to stop not being parking lots. And let me tell all the lithium at the bottom of the ocean how to--um--let me kill all the cool snails at the bottom of the ocean to get at that yummy yummy lithium for the doom rectangles.

I guess ol' Robert was really feeling his oats that day. I guess Mr. Frost was on a tear that season. Batting 1,000. He must've felt like he was physically incapable of missing. The Lebron James of quatrains.

Yeah I'll write a poem, he screamed to the roaring wind. I'll write a poem about telling you how to do your job! How do you like that huh?! He's on top of a cliff screaming into the wind as a storm rolls in. I'm ROBERT LEE FROST BUDDY! I DECIDE WHOSE DOES WHAT AND WHERE THEY DO IT AT! I MAKE THE MONEY, MAN! I ROLL THE NICKELS! THE GAME IS MINE!!

That is, um, how I imagine Robert Frost was when he wrote this poem. Thank you and goodnight.