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Difficult Poem

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Mowing
By: Robert Frost

There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound-
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labour knows.
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.
 

       A difficult poem written by Robert Frost in my mind would have to be “Mowing”. I really can’t say that he writes a lot of hard to understand poems, but I will say that this poem “Mowing” has been the most difficult for me to understand by far. I think the main reason why I don’t understand this poem is it doesn’t follow the usual theme that Robert Frost is known for in regards to death and destruction. I didn’t really understand anything about this poem because it doesn’t seem to flow as nicely as all his other poems do. It lacks the somewhat obvious underlying meanings that I have become accustom to in all of his other poems and it is frustrating to read this poem over and over without being able to grasp its meaning. I think it has something to do with collecting hay under a hot summer sun but I am not completely sure.

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on. "