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A Girl's Garden

A neighbor of mine in the village

    Likes to tell how one spring

When she was a girl on the farm, she did

    A childlike thing.


One day she asked her father

    To give her a garden plot

To plant and tend and reap herself,

    And he said, “Why not?”


In casting about for a corner

    He thought of an idle bit

Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood,

    And he said, “Just it.”


And he said, “That ought to make you

    An ideal one-girl farm,

And give you a chance to put some strength

    On your slim-jim arm.”


It was not enough of a garden,

    Her father said, to plough;

So she had to work it all by hand,

    But she don’t mind now.


She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow

    Along a stretch of road;

But she always ran away and left

    Her not-nice load.


And hid from anyone passing.

    And then she begged the seed.

She says she thinks she planted one

    Of all things but weed.


A hill each of potatoes,

    Radishes, lettuce, peas,

Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn,

    And even fruit trees


And yes, she has long mistrusted

    That a cider apple tree

In bearing there to-day is hers,

    Or at least may be.


Her crop was a miscellany

    When all was said and done,

A little bit of everything,

    A great deal of none.


Now when she sees in the village

    How village things go,

Just when it seems to come in right,

    She says, “I know!


It’s as when I was a farmer——”

    Oh, never by way of advice!

And she never sins by telling the tale

    To the same person twice.

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Robert Frost

Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published i…
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