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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506915" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Tuft of Flowers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I went to turn the grass once after one <br>Who mowed it in the dew before the sun. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dew was gone that made his blade so keen <br>Before I came to view the levelled scene. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I looked for him behind an isle of trees;<br>I listened for his whetstone on the breeze. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, <br>And I must be, as he had been,—alone, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;As all must be,&quot; I said within my heart, <br>&quot;Whether they work together or apart.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But as I said it, swift there passed me by <br>On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seeking with memories grown dim over night <br>Some resting flower of yesterday's delight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And once I marked his flight go round and round, <br>As where some flower lay withering on the ground. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then he flew as far as eye could see, <br>And then on tremulous wing came back to me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I thought of questions that have no reply, <br>And would have turned to toss the grass to dry; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he turned first, and led my eye to look <br>At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared <br>Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I left my place to know them by their name, <br>Finding them butterfly-weed when I came. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mower in the dew had loved them thus, <br>By leaving them to flourish, not for us, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him, <br>But from sheer morning gladness at the brim. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The butterfly and I had lit upon, <br>Nevertheless, a message from the dawn, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That made me hear the wakening birds around, <br>And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And feel a spirit kindred to my own; <br>So that henceforth I worked no more alone; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But glad with him, I worked as with his aid, <br>And weary, sought at noon with him the shade; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech <br>With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Men work together,&quot; I told him from the heart, <br>&quot;Whether they work together or apart.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Frost">Robert Frost</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506915" data-title="The Tuft of Flowers de Robert Frost" data-description="I went to turn the grass once after one 
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun. 

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen 
Before I came to view the levelled scene. 

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on ..."></div>
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