A saturated meadow, Sun-shaped and jewel-small, A circle scarcely wider Than the trees around were tall; Where winds were quite excluded, And the air was stifling sweet With the breath of many flowers,— A temple of the heat. These were bowed us in the burning, As the sun’s right worship is, To pick where none could miss them A thousand orchises; For though the grass was scattered, Yet every second spear Seemed tipped with wings of color, That tinged the atmosphere. We raised a simple prayer Before we left the spot, That in the general mowing That place might be forgot; Or if not all is favoured, Obtain such grace of hours, That none should mow the grass there While so confused with flowers.
This poem is in the public domain.
About this Poem
"Rose Pogonias" was published in A Boy's Will (Henry Holt and Company, 1915).
One of the most celebrated figures in American poetry, Robert Frost was the author of numerous poetry collections, including including New Hampshire (Henry Holt and Company, 1923). Born in San Francisco in 1874, he lived and taught for many years in Massachusetts and Vermont. He died in Boston in 1963.
Date Published: 2018-09-13
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/rose-pogonias