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A.O. Scott analyzes Robert Frost's "For Once, Then, Something," exploring its themes of self-reflection, narcissism, and hidden meanings. The poem's unusual structure and imagery are discussed within the context of Frost's literary style.
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{ "tone": "analytical", "perspective": "literary critic", "audience": "general public interested in literature", "credibility_indicators": [ "expert_quotes", "literary references" ] }
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Scott", "claim_subject_tags": [ "Literature", "Poetry" ], "confidence": 0.9, "context_type": "News Article", "similarity_found": false, "linked_to": null, "similarity_score": null }, { "uuid": "9fc88a66-f9cb-45df-96a9-3d42993be2bc", "text": "\u201cFor Once, Then, Something\u201d appeared in a 1923 book called \u201cNew Hampshire.\u201d", "simplified_text": "Robert Frost's poem 'For Once Then Something' appeared in the 1923 book 'New Hampshire'", "claim_maker": "A.O. Scott", "claim_subject_tags": [ "Literature", "Poetry" ], "confidence": 1, "context_type": "News Article", "similarity_found": false, "linked_to": null, "similarity_score": null }, { "uuid": "9fc88a67-f0d3-4043-b0bd-f5282a48a825", "text": "Frost is inviting us to take his eccentric enterprise as a metaphor, to find a philosophical, even spiritual dimension in this anecdote of redirected attention.", "simplified_text": "Frost invites readers to find philosophical and spiritual dimensions in the poem", "claim_maker": "A.O. 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I Can’t Look Away From This Poem About Looking By A.O. Scott Aug. 27, 2025 Take a moment to reflect. That’s generally good advice. “For Once, Then, Something” is a reflection on reflecting — on looking and thinking — that teases the double meaning of the word without using it once. For Once, Then, Something by Robert Frost 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 quart...
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