For Once, Then, Something

In four connected movements, For Once, Then, Something sets Robert Frost’s selected poetry in a narrative arc: the singer searches for truth and wonder in a world that continually seems arbitrary and mundane. The ”Fireflies in the Garden” remind the singer of stars, but unlike true stars (that are out of reach), the fireflies on earth last only a short time. An increased sense of wistfulness or resignation occurs in “A Patch of Old Snow” when the singer considers whether the grimy object in the corner is snow or a newspaper, noting that either way the item has been forgotten, disused, and discarded.

All these hints of disillusionment with the world are fully realized in “Out, Out—” the brutal tragedy of a young boy being mutilated and killed by a saw followed by the seeming apathy of the witnesses who decide to go on with their day all contribute to the singer’s sense that the world is not just arbitrary but hostile, especially to those who search it for meaning. Accordingly, the jarring opening of “For Once, Then, Something” depicts mockery of the singer whose own reflection blocks them from seeing anything deeper in the well they kneel beside. But ultimately, the fact that something was surely hidden in the depths of the well is enough to leave the singer with a sense of hope, just as our own search for truth should be guided by certainty that such truth does exist… though maybe not at the bottom of a well.