In his Poem OUT OUT what did he say about the nature being cruel?

I will look this up right now, but one of the first thing I found is this;

Frost's poem is based on a true incident which is believed to have happened in April 1915; Raymond Fitzgerald, the son of Frost’s friend and neighbour, lost his hand to a buzz saw and bled so profusely that he went into shock, and died of cardiac arrest in spite of the best efforts of the doctor. Frost’s title invites us to compare the poem’s shocking story with Macbeth’s speech on learning of his wife’s death:

The key to understanding the theme of Frost's "Out, out-" lies in the intertextual reference to Shakespeare's "Macbeth" Act V Sc.5, where Macbeth soliloquizes bitterly on the futility of life after he learns of the death of his wife:

Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

Frost's poem ironically comments on the death of a small boy who dies tragically at such a young age because of an accident when he was sawing wood. His life is compared to a "brief candle."

When the boy's sister announces that it's supper time, the boy is distracted and even before he realizes it the saw has cut off his hand:

His sister stood beside them in her apron

To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw,

As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,

Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap—

Frost has anthropomorphized the inanimate object 'saw' by giving it human attributes - 'knew' and 'leaped.' the word 'buzz-saw' itself is an example of onomatopoeia - the buzzing sound of the machine saw.

The last two lines contain the message or moral which Frost wants to convey to his readers. Frost's message is that anything can happen at any time. There is no absolute safety or security for human life. The next minute is not ours and we may be alive one minute and dead the very next minute. The only thing that we can do is to go on with our lives. Just because the small boy died it does not mean that all the others will die in a similar fashion. The death of the small boy cannot be an excuse for inaction. So, the others continue with their work and lives even after the death of the boy:

No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little--less--nothing!--and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

Maybe this will help; if not I'll be back.

I see nothing in this poem about the cruelty of nature. Yes, this poem is in its own way about conquering nature, clearing the land, cutting wood for the stove (warnth, food), but the boys death comes from the slip of a saw and tragic loss of a hand.

Nature doesn't snarl and rattle, the saw or shall we say the technology snarls and rattles. The fact that the boy was doing a "man's" work would have been the norm during the time period the poem was written, so even that needs to be considered within context. Was this a tragic accident? Yes. Was it a case of the "cruelty of nature." I don't think so.

The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard

And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,

Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.

And from there those that lifted eyes could count

Five mountain ranges one behind the other

Under the sunset far into Vermont.

And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,

As it ran light, or had to bear a load.

And nothing happened: day was all but done.

Call it a day, I wish they might have said

To please the boy by giving him the half hour

That a boy counts so much when saved from work.

His sister stood beside them in her apron

To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw,

As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,

Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap—

He must have given the hand. However it was,

Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!

The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,

As he swung toward them holding up the hand

Half in appeal, but half as if to keep

The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—

Since he was old enough to know, big boy

Doing a man's work, though a child at heart—

He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off—

The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!"

So. But the hand was gone already.

The doctor put him in the dark of ether.

He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.

And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.

No one believed. They listened at his heart.

Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.

No more to build on there. And they, since they

Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.