Gathering Leaves

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons...

I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed
And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight;
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for colour.

Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?

GATHERING LEAVES by Robert Frost