I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.
I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way the grass all mown
And I must be as he had been—alone
“As all must be” I said within my heart
“Whether they work together or apart.”
But as I said it swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly
Seeking with memories grown dim o’er night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus
By leaving them to flourish not for us
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon
Nevertheless a message from the dawn.
That made me hear the wakening birds around
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him I worked as with his aid
And weary sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming as it were held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.
“Men work together” I told him from the heart
“Whether they work together or apart.”