"Out, Out" is a poem by American poet Robert Frost, published in Frost's 1916 collection Mountain Interval and based on a true incident that happened to Frost's friend's son. The poem is set in rural Vermont, where a young boy cutting wood with a buzz saw is called in for "supper" by his sister. But just as he turns to come in, the saw suddenly makes contact with his hand, causing an outpouring of blood that ultimately proves fatal. This tragedy, a young boy losing his life in such a wasteful and shocking way, implicitly questions the value of life itself. Indeed, the narrator's matter-of-fact presentation of the boy's final moments, and the way in which everyone soon goes back to their daily business, suggests that death is a mundane fact of daily life.
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1The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
2And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
3Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
4And from there those that lifted eyes could count
5Five mountain ranges one behind the other
6Under the sunset far into Vermont.
7And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
8As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
9And nothing happened: day was all but done.
10Call it a day, I wish they might have said
11To please the boy by giving him the half hour
12That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
13His sister stood beside him in her apron
14To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,
15As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
16Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
17He must have given the hand. However it was,
18Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
19The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
20As he swung toward them holding up the hand
21Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
22The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
23Since he was old enough to know, big boy
24Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
25He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—
26The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’
27So. But the hand was gone already.
28The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
29He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
30And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
31No one believed. They listened at his heart.
32Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
33No more to build on there. And they, since they
34Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
1The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
2And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
3Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
4And from there those that lifted eyes could count
5Five mountain ranges one behind the other
6Under the sunset far into Vermont.
7And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
8As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
9And nothing happened: day was all but done.
10Call it a day, I wish they might have said
11To please the boy by giving him the half hour
12That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
13His sister stood beside him in her apron
14To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,
15As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
16Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
17He must have given the hand. However it was,
18Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
19The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
20As he swung toward them holding up the hand
21Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
22The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
23Since he was old enough to know, big boy
24Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
25He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—
26The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’
27So. But the hand was gone already.
28The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
29He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
30And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
31No one believed. They listened at his heart.
32Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
33No more to build on there. And they, since they
34Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
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.
Macbeth's Soliloquy — A fascinating insight into the Macbeth soliloquy from which the poem's title is taken. Ian McKellen analyzes the speech.
Raymond Tracy Fitzgerald — A link to a memorial page for Raymond Tracy Fitzgerald, the boy on whom Frost based the poem.
More Articles and Poems — A valuable resource from Poetry Foundation with Frost poems, analysis, and biographical information.
Mountain Interval — A link to the full collection from which this poem is taken.
An Insightful Interview with the Poet — In this video, Robert Frost is interviewed by author Bela Kornitzer in 1952.
A Reading of the Poem — The poem read for the Librivox archive.