I don't think, in Frost's case, it is a matter of either/or, but rather the elaborate free counterpoint of both/and. I am coming to think that the whole point of poetry — for reader and writer — has to do with learning to get along with mystery: Something is going on, not sure what exactly. Pretty sure about a few things, not so sure about most. Could be this, could be that. Or maybe something else altogether. Getting used to a fundamental uncertainty — and hoping for the best.