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