She stole a moment from each day of toil To nurture blossoms in a rainbow mass, And in a squared-off plot she sheared the grass About her house. Her husband tilled the soil. He thought it nonsense thus to slave and moil For flowers. He would sit and read the news And figure up what were his debts and dues. He 'lowed she did enough to bake and broil, To bother with the butter and the milk, To feed the chickens and to gather eggs, He could not see why they should tire their legs To cut the grass or work for poppies' silk. Her grave is beautifully kept. With care The grass is clipped, and flowers are planted there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ARIEL'S SONG (2), FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE BEHIND THE LINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SHAKESPEARE READS THE KING JAMES VERSION by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON NIGHT IN FLORIDA by ALPHEUS BUTLER PROFUSE KINDNESS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |