Frost often confounds our expectations. He is not the cracker-barrel Yankee philosopher that he is often made out to be. The best example of this is, I think, "The Road Not Taken." The closing lines ("I took the one less traveled by,/And that has made all the difference") have been turned into a self-help exhortation. In fact, the poem can be read as a rueful (and ironic) expression of regret at having chosen that road.
In the following poem, Frost goes beyond the earth and the stars to look below ground. In doing so, he may give us a closer approximation of how he sees himself (and us). The Frostian slyness is still present, but there is a bit of self-revelation as well.
John Nash, "Berkshire Woods"
For Once, Then, Something
Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in the summer heaven godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths -- and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
Robert Frost, New Hampshire (1923).
I have noted on another occasion that Philip Larkin, who greatly admired Edward Thomas, has made one of the acutest observations about Thomas and his poetry. I believe that this observation applies to Frost and his poetry as well:
"What a strange talent his was: the poetry of almost infinitely-qualified states of mind, so well paralleled by his verse."
Philip Larkin, Letter to Andrew Motion (May 16, 1979), Selected Letters of Philip Larkin, 1940-1985 (edited by Anthony Thwaite) (Faber and Faber 1992).
John Nash, "A Path Through Trees" (c. 1915)