The Tuft of Flowers

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 overnight
 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
 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