When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.
The Mowing Field lies behind Robert Frost's old farmhouse in Derry, New Hampshire. The field is still there. It is surrounded by woods on three sides.
The Farm, where Robert Frost and his family lived for 11 years from 1900, can be visited by the public free of charge. The National Historic Landmark Robert Frost Farm provides displays, trails and regular poetry readings.