Robert Frost wrote "Birches" between 1913 and 1914, eventually publishing it in The Atlantic Monthly's August issue in 1915. The poem was later included in Frost's third collection of poetry, Mountain Interval. Consisting of 59 lines of blank verse, the poem features a speaker who likes to imagine that the reason ice-covered birch trees are stooped is that a young boy has been climbing them and swinging to the ground while holding onto the flexible treetops. This, it eventually becomes clear, is something the speaker once did as a child, and this turns the poem into a nostalgic celebration of youthful joy while also juxtaposing childish spontaneity with the more serious, mundane realities of adulthood.
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The Full Text of “Birches”
1When I see birches bend to left and right
2Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
3I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
4But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
5As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
6Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
7After a rain. They click upon themselves
8As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
9As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
10Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
11Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
12Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
13You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
14They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
15And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
16So low for long, they never right themselves:
17You may see their trunks arching in the woods
18Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
19Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
20Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
21But I was going to say when Truth broke in
22With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
23I should prefer to have some boy bend them
24As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
25Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
26Whose only play was what he found himself,
27Summer or winter, and could play alone.
28One by one he subdued his father's trees
29By riding them down over and over again
30Until he took the stiffness out of them,
31And not one but hung limp, not one was left
32For him to conquer. He learned all there was
33To learn about not launching out too soon
34And so not carrying the tree away
35Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
36To the top branches, climbing carefully
37With the same pains you use to fill a cup
38Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
39Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
40Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
41So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
42And so I dream of going back to be.
43It's when I'm weary of considerations,
44And life is too much like a pathless wood
45Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
46Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
47From a twig's having lashed across it open.
48I'd like to get away from earth awhile
49And then come back to it and begin over.
50May no fate willfully misunderstand me
51And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
52Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
53I don't know where it's likely to go better.
54I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
55And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
56Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
57But dipped its top and set me down again.
58That would be good both going and coming back.
59One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
The Full Text of “Birches”
1When I see birches bend to left and right
2Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
3I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
4But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
5As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
6Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
7After a rain. They click upon themselves
8As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
9As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
10Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
11Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
12Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
13You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
14They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
15And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
16So low for long, they never right themselves:
17You may see their trunks arching in the woods
18Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
19Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
20Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
21But I was going to say when Truth broke in
22With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
23I should prefer to have some boy bend them
24As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
25Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
26Whose only play was what he found himself,
27Summer or winter, and could play alone.
28One by one he subdued his father's trees
29By riding them down over and over again
30Until he took the stiffness out of them,
31And not one but hung limp, not one was left
32For him to conquer. He learned all there was
33To learn about not launching out too soon
34And so not carrying the tree away
35Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
36To the top branches, climbing carefully
37With the same pains you use to fill a cup
38Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
39Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
40Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
41So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
42And so I dream of going back to be.
43It's when I'm weary of considerations,
44And life is too much like a pathless wood
45Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
46Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
47From a twig's having lashed across it open.
48I'd like to get away from earth awhile
49And then come back to it and begin over.
50May no fate willfully misunderstand me
51And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
52Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
53I don't know where it's likely to go better.
54I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
55And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
56Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
57But dipped its top and set me down again.
58That would be good both going and coming back.
59One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
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“Birches” Summary
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“Birches” Themes
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The Joy of Childhood
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The Tedious Reality of Adulthood
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Death, Spirituality, and Escape
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Line-by-Line Explanation & Analysis of “Birches”
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Lines 1-5
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. -
Lines 5-11
Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust— -
Lines 12-16
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves: -
Lines 17-20
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. -
Lines 21-27
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone. -
Lines 28-32
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. -
Lines 32-40
He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. -
Lines 41-47
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open. -
Lines 48-52
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. -
Lines 52-56
Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward
heaven, -
Lines 56-59
till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
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“Birches” Symbols
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Swinging from Birch Trees
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“Birches” Poetic Devices & Figurative Language
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Alliteration
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Consonance
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Assonance
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Metaphor
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Personification
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Caesura
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Juxtaposition
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Sibilance
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Simile
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Repetition
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“Birches” Vocabulary
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
- Birches
- Many-colored
- Stir
- Crazes
- Enamel
- Snow-crust
- Heaps
- The inner dome of heaven
- Withered
- Bracken
- Load
- Bowed
- Subdued
- Poise
- Brim
- Pathless wood
- Willfully
- Half grant
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- See where this vocabulary word appears in the poem.
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Form, Meter, & Rhyme Scheme of “Birches”
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Form
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Meter
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Rhyme Scheme
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“Birches” Speaker
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“Birches” Setting
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Literary and Historical Context of “Birches”
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More “Birches” Resources
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External Resources
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The Robert Frost Farm — Read about Robert Frost's legacy in New England – where he swung from birches as a boy—and the farm that bears his name!
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Robert Frost Reads "Birches" — Hear the poet himself read "Birches" in this old recording.
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Birch Swinging — Check out this video of somebody demonstrating how to swing from a birch tree.
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The Poet's Life — For more information about Robert Frost, take a look at this brief overview of his life and work.
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Frost and the "Sound of Sense" — Learn more about Frost's thoughts on "sound of sense," a term he used to describe the significance of sound in poetry, especially when applied to straightforward but impassioned language.
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LitCharts on Other Poems by Robert Frost
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