Poem by Robert Frost: Flower-Gathering

Flower-Gathering

I left you in the moing, And in the moing glow, You walked a way beside me To
make me sad to go. Do you know me in the gloaming, Gaunt and dusty gray with
roaming? Are you dumb because you know me not, Or dumb because you know? All
for me And not a question For the faded flowers gay That could take me from beside
you For the ages of a day? They are yours, and be the measure Of their worth for you
to treasure, The measure of the little while That I’ve been long away.

Robert Frost

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