You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper's on the table, and we'll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea);
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a Springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.

Added: on May 23rd, 2007 at 2:55 PM | Viewed: 7389 times | Comments (30)

Poet: Robert Frost
Poem: 14. Putting in the Seed
Volume: Mountain Interval
Year: Published/Written in 1916
Poem of the Day: Aug 25 2003

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