To-day I
Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield,
And bracken, and wild carrot's seed,
And the square mustard field;
Odours that
When the spade wounds the root of tree,
Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,
Rhubarb or celery;
The smoke's smell, too,
Flowing from where a bonfire
The dead, the waste, the dangerous,
And all to sweetness turns.
It is
To smell, to crumble the dark earth,
While the robin sings over
Sad songs of Autumn mirth.
The name of this poem is only Digging, but as there is another poem by the same poet with the same name the number has been given to distinguish the 2
