Mowing by Robert Frost


Robert Frost

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 labor knows.

My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.

Critical analysis of Mowing by Robert Frost

Critical analysis of Mowing by Robert Frost

On a hot day, when the narrator is working in the field, at that time he notices that his scythe appears to be whispering as it works. But he is unable to understand about the voice of the scythe or he does not realize what the scythe is saying. He confesses the possibility that the whispering sound is simply his imagination or even the result of heatstroke. He again thinks about the sound a scythe makes mowing hay in a field by a forest, and what this sound might signify. He rejects the idea that it speaks of something dreamlike or supernatural, gradually he determines that the scythe may be expressing its own beliefs about the world. Continue reading