To Earthward
Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear; And once that seemed too much; I lived on air That crossed me from sweet things, The flow of – was it musk From hidden grapevine springs Down hill at dusk? I had the swirl and ache From sprays of honeysuckle That when they’re gathered shake Dew on the knuckle. I craved strong sweets, but those Seemed strong when I was young; The petal of the rose It was that stung. Now no joy but lacks salt That is not dashed with pain And weariness and fault; I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark Of almost too much love, The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove. When stiff and sore and scarred I take away my hand From leaning on it hard In grass and sand, The hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength To feel the earth as rough To all my length.
To Earthward - context Summary
Published in New Hampshire 1923
Published in Frost's 1923 collection New Hampshire, "To Earthward" expresses a late-career shift in tone from idealized youthful love to a bodily, grounded appetite that includes pain. The poem traces a movement from airy, fragrant pleasures—honeysuckle, rose petals, musk—toward a desire for weight, roughness, and the "aftermark" of sorrow. Reading it in context of Frost's mature perspective on love and life, the poem reads as a candid meditation on how experience deepens appetite, so that sweetness must now be tempered by ache and the physical realism of age.
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