Modern American Poetry — Story, Setting & Ideas

Frost's Orchard and the Art of Restraint

In "The Runaway," Frost uses a simple encounter—a colt bolting at snow—to explore fear and neglect. The speaker's concern is voiced in natural speech: "He isn't winter-broken." The poem's power lies in what is left unsaid; the final plea, "Ought to be told to come and take him in," implies a larger failure of care. This restraint is a hallmark of Frost's method, which Untermeyer highlights by placing the poem early in the anthology.

Another Frost poem, "Birches," contrasts a boy's playful swinging with the harsh reality of ice storms. The speaker admits, "I was going to say when Truth broke in / With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm." This tension between imagination and fact is central to Frost's voice. Untermeyer's selection of such poems guides readers to notice how Frost balances colloquial speech with philosophical weight.

The Anthology's Architecture: From Riley to Sandburg

Untermeyer's anthology spans from 19th-century figures like James Whitcomb Riley to modernists like Carl Sandburg. The acknowledgments list poets as varied as Paul Laurence Dunbar, Joyce Kilmer, and Conrad Aiken, suggesting a broad definition of "modern." The inclusion of Riley, known for dialect poems, alongside Frost's New England narratives shows a deliberate range of regional voices.

Readers should note that the anthology is not chronological but thematic, grouping poets by style or subject. Untermeyer's headnotes (not fully excerpted here) likely contextualize each poet's contribution. The presence of lesser-known names like Badger Clark and Grace Hazard Conkling indicates an effort to represent diverse traditions, from cowboy ballads to imagist lyrics.

The Editor's Role: Shaping a Canon

Untermeyer's editorial choices are evident in the selection of Frost's "The Runaway" and "Birches" as representative works. Both poems emphasize rural life and natural speech, aligning with Untermeyer's stated interest in "the new era in American poetry." The anthology's title, Modern American Poetry, signals a break from Victorian conventions, yet the inclusion of older poets like Joaquin Miller suggests continuity.

Readers should consider how Untermeyer's own poetry, listed in the front matter, might influence his selections. His preface (not excerpted) likely outlines criteria for inclusion. The anthology's success in shaping public taste is suggested by its multiple editions; the 1921 version is "revised and enlarged," indicating ongoing engagement with the poetic landscape.

Voice and Vernacular in the Selected Poems

The excerpts reveal a consistent emphasis on spoken language. In "The Runaway," the speaker's dialogue mimics rural speech: "Sakes, / It's only weather." Frost's "Birches" uses a conversational tone: "I like to think some boy's been swinging them." This vernacular style is a defining feature of the anthology, contrasting with the formal diction of 19th-century poetry.

Other poets in the collection, such as Carl Sandburg and Edwin Markham, also employ plain speech. Untermeyer's selection thus champions a democratic voice, accessible yet nuanced. Readers should attend to how each poet adapts colloquial rhythms to different subjects—Frost's philosophical meditations, Sandburg's urban imagery, Dunbar's dialect. This variety within a shared commitment to natural language is a key thread in the anthology.

As you read through Modern American Poetry, pay attention to the headnotes: Untermeyer often uses them to highlight a poet's innovations or influences. Compare the treatment of nature in Frost's "Birches" with that in earlier poets like Madison Cawein. Notice how the anthology balances established names with emerging voices, and consider how Untermeyer's own preferences shape the canon he presents. The book is both a collection and an argument for a particular vision of American poetry.

I keep thinking about how Untermeyer’s anthology made me feel the quiet weight of a single poem sitting in a room full of others. That intimacy stayed with me, the way certain lines resist leaving. Two Fishers, and Other Poems — Reading Companion holds that same unhurried closeness, like a hand resting on a windowsill while the light changes. A gentle, lingering sort of company.