Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

Pea Brush - Poem by Robert Frost

I WALKED down alone Sunday after church
To the place where John has been cutting trees
To see for myself about the birch
He said I could have to bush my peas.

The sun in the new-cut narrow gap
Was hot enough for the first of May,
And stifling hot with the odor of sap
From stumps still bleeding their life away.

The frogs that were peeping a thousand shrill
Wherever the ground was low and wet,
The minute they heard my step went still
To watch me and see what I came to get.

Birch boughs enough piled everywhere!—
All fresh and sound from the recent axe.
Time someone came with cart and pair
And got them off the wild flower's backs.

They might be good for garden things
To curl a little finger round,
The same as you seize cat's-cradle strings,
And lift themselves up off the ground.

Small good to anything growing wild,
They were crooking many a trillium
That had budded before the boughs were piled
And since it was coming up had to come.


Comments about Pea Brush by Robert Frost

  • (5/8/2016 10:16:00 AM)


    ........the atmosphere is created beautifully, very nice ★

    Pea Brush - Poem by Robert Frost


    I WALKED down alone Sunday after church
    To the place where John has been cutting trees
    To see for myself about the birch
    He said I could have to bush my peas.

    The sun in the new-cut narrow gap
    Was hot enough for the first of May,
    And stifling hot with the odor of sap
    From stumps still bleeding their life away.

    The frogs that were peeping a thousand shrill
    Wherever the ground was low and wet,
    The minute they heard my step went still
    To watch me and see what I came to get.

    Birch boughs enough piled everywhere! —
    All fresh and sound from the recent axe.
    Time someone came with cart and pair
    And got them off the wild flower's backs.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 11, 2016

Poem Edited: Friday, March 11, 2016


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