Verse > Robert Frost > A Boy’s Will
Robert Frost (1874–1963).  A Boy’s Will.  1915.
5. A Late Walk
WHEN I go up through the mowing field,
  The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
  Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,        5
  The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
  Is sadder than any words.
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
  But a leaf that lingered brown,        10
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
  Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
  By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower        15
  To carry again to you.


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