Mowing

There was never a sound beside the wood but one,And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound—And that was why it whispered and did not speak.It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weakTo the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.

In Mowing Frost wanders into the realms of imagination, but returns to "fact". Frost displays his preference for practical sense and labor rather than dreams. "There was never a sound beside the wood one", this line creates a stillness setting. It also draws the reader further to find out what that one sound was. "My long scythe whispering to the ground", takes a leap from real world into imagination at once. The scythe is a symbol of work. The poet gives its mechanical task the impression of tireless work that springs out only from earnest love for work. It reminds and reinforces the poet’s faith in the practical purposes of life that only can provide the sweetest things.