I hazard to guess what Frost intended with this poem. I only know what it means when I read it. With an over indulgence in imagination; the Oven Bird seems to be what we, as humanity, do to with all things that are beautiful. So beautiful in their own right…we must rid the world of their joy!
the Oven Bird – Robert Frost
There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.