The Tuft of Flowers 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 gleam,
And, as I went to clear away the leaves,
I found a tuft of flowers,
That just to see this beauty once again.

The morning light of reason was in it,
I knew the man who had gone out together
He wove high grass and walked overhead;
The leaning boughs were bent beneath his hand
And still remained
A room for the touchfinding of a day.

The flying dew would witness the hour,
The shadows would ask what they meant,
Leaving the empty wood behind.

These flowers spoke in tenderness
As you are lost without a woolly coat
While others seemed happier
To share this burden of the morn.

Their shapes would lift the imagination high,
And as I will heighten my soul to heights that are above
I will bring these tufts of flowers back
To you, as a fleeting charm
That loves a moment, and brings it home.

• Robert Frost