Gathering Leaves

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?

by Robert Frost

Comments (9)

i hate poemas! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
utter bore of a poem
nice work, the works are put together in good way and good structure, awesome poet
this poem is very well put together and it flows well
Thisy really doesn't meet my needs.
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