Poem by Robert Lee Frost

Lodged

The rain to the wind said,
’You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

1. Flower-Gathering
2. In Neglect
3. Sitting by a Bush in Broad Sunlight
4. The Telephone
5. The Cocoon

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