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Robert Lee Frost (Роберт Ли Фрост)


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?



Robert Lee Frost's other poems:
  1. Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter
  2. The Demiurge’s Laugh
  3. The Census-Taker
  4. The Black Cottage
  5. The Thatch


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