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,
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,
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
To carry again to you.
Poem by
Robert Frost
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Robert Frost
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on A Late Walk
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem A Late Walk here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.