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The Tuft of Flowers. A Boy’s Will. 1913.

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 leveled scene.
I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,
‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a ’wildered butterfly,
Seeking with memories grown dim o’er night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.
‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
Loneliness

The poem appropriately follows Mowing in the collection. In Mowing too, the poet is aware of his loneliness:

There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.


The Tuft…carries this thought further – the loneliness of people engaged in various farming jobs. Here, the poet-farmer goes to turn the hay that a worker has earlier in the day mowed. He is half-hoping to meet the other man, so much so that he almost ‘steals’ up to him:

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.


But the realization that he is alone, dawns. There is a generalization; he says ‘all’ must be ‘alone’.

And I must be, as he had been,—alone,
‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart,

‘Whether they work together or apart.’

However a butterfly draws his attention to a tuft of flowers that the mower has left unmowed.

…and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared

The poet feels instant affinity with the mower who had left it thus while mowing the grass around it. He knows that it was done from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
This one act of the mower gave the poet insight into his psyche. He knew that they thought alike, felt alike. It gladdened him that they shared a similar sensibility. This made the poet ‘feel’ the presence of the mower. He no longer rued his loneliness. Physical presence of a companion no longer matters for he knows that they are close in thought.

.. made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

Finally, the Frostian ending ‘in wisdom’:

‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
Unharvested!

Although work is primary, the poet in the farmer appears to again and again state and affirm that it’s alright to let feelings take precedence sometimes. The balance between love and labor is desirable.

Rose Pogonias from the same collection has a prayer:

That none should mow the grass there
While so confused with flowers.


Unharvested from a much later collection (A Further Range), is again a wish:

May something go always unharvested!
May much stay out of our stated plan,

Apples or something forgotten and left,
So smelling their sweetness would be no theft.

Mood

The poem begins with the feeling of hope, of meeting a fellow worker. It turns to disappointment and then to resignation as the feeling of loneliness grows. The poet grows meditative.

I thought of questions that have no reply,


but when he sees the spared tuft of flowers, he is delighted and goes back to work feeling the presence of a fellow worker.


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