PUTTING IN THE SEED

by: Robert Frost (1874-1963)

      OU come to fetch me from my work to-night
      When supper's on the table, and we'll see
      If I can leave off burying the white
      Soft petals fallen from the apple tree.

      (Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
      Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;)
      And go along with you ere you lose sight
      Of what you came for and become like me,

      Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
      How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
      On through the watching for that early birth
      When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,

      The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
      Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.

"Putting in the Seed" is reprinted from Mountain Interval. Robert Frost. New York: Henry Holt, 1921.

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