15 years on: appreciating my high school literature class (3)

I've never been in snow; I've only seen it on the telly or while inside airplanes that fly over snowcapped mountains. Despite not experiencing what it's like to be amid bitterly cold snow, ice, and perhaps mud, I have an idea of how lonesome it could be in such conditions. That's thanks to poetry I've learned in my high school literature class. Some poets go so lofty with their language, leaving the readers (or listeners) at a loss as to what the poems mean. Then there are poets who use so much imagery that the audience, even those whose experiences are very different from the poets', are able to visualise the poets' points.

I am lucky to have come across an example of such kind of poetry when I was sitting in my high school literature class. On reading the poem for the first time, I could almost understand the loneliness of the narrator: I felt like I was alone, walking in a temperate forest road on a very cold evening. The evergreens all around me were black shapes piercing the sapphire sky. The air was still along this forest road and it was quiet all around except for the crunch of my footsteps on the freshly fallen snow. I had to keep moving because it was cold and because there's still a long way to go before I could stop. 

Vivid, that's what I'd call the imagery of Robert Frost. This poem, written in 1922, is no other than Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. The poem is accessible here:

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171621