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Quotation by Robert Frost
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
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.
Robert Frost (1874–1963), U.S. poet. The Tuft of Flowers (l. 23–28). . .
The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
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