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Poetry Sunday: Gathering Leaves by Robert Frost

Leaves are falling. Great heaps of them lie on the ground waiting to be removed to the compost bins. They are a rich harvest. Small animals will be glad for the heat of their decaying this winter and afterward garden beds will receive them. Nothing in Nature is wasted.

Gathering Leaves

by Robert Frost

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
 
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
 
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
 
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
 
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.
 
Next to nothing for use,
But a crop is a crop,
And who’s to say where
The harvest shall stop?
 
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Comments

  1. jabblogOctober 13, 2024 at 5:08 AM

    Perfect! Leaves are difficult to gather, especially when the wind blows, and they are incredibly light.

    ReplyDelete
  2. David M. Gascoigne,October 13, 2024 at 6:04 AM

    Thanks for the words of this great poet. We leave our leaves on the ground to offer shelter and warmth to overwintering creatures. And many of them work their way into the soil to enrich it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lark October 13, 2024 at 10:42 AM

    This is one of his lighter, more frivolous poems...and not one that I've read before. Thanks for sharing. :D

    ReplyDelete
  4. AlanaOctober 13, 2024 at 1:22 PM

    I don't know if this poem was written in his Vermont home, but, since I've been there, I can imagine Frost raking leaves just like we all in the Northeast have, and gathering those leaves together to compost. It made me smile.

    ReplyDelete
  5. thecuecardOctober 21, 2024 at 5:48 PM

    Who's to say where it will stop? Yay. What a great sentiment.

    ReplyDelete

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