THE TUFT OF FLOWERS 



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 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, 

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