Analysis of Mowing
Robert Frost 1874 (San Francisco) – 1963 (Boston)
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.
Scheme | ABCABDECDFEGFG |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 111001010111 011111100101 11111011111 0111100101101 1001010111 01111100111 111110111010 11011011111 10110111111 10101110101 10110101110 11010111 0110101111 11110010111 |
Closest metre | Iambic hexameter |
Characters | 678 |
Words | 132 |
Sentences | 7 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 38 |
Words per line (avg) | 9 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 534 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 130 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 26, 2023
- 39 sec read
- 163 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Mowing" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/30878/mowing>.
Discuss this Robert Frost poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In