Robert Frost's 'Mowing': A Reflection on Nature and Solitude

In 'Mowing,' Robert Frost captures the serene moment of a solitary act in nature, where the only sound is the whisper of a scythe against the ground. The poem explores the connection between the speaker and the natural world, inviting contemplation on the

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There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound--
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labour knows.
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.

Robert Frost

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mowing/

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194

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Duration
1:00

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Published
Nov 7, 2014

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