He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
Winter solitude has the quality of the sublime.
Frost paints us a picture that is both beautiful and startling. According to Arthur Schopenhauer, a philosopher of aesthetics (the study of beauty), the sublime is “pleasure from perceiving objects that threaten to hurt or destroy the observer.” Think: lightning, fire, heights.
These snowy woods are beautiful, yes, but they are also creepy on a intrinsic, primal level.
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