and again, evidence of my love affair with robert frost

The Pasture – By Robert Frost

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n't be gone long.-You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n't be gone long.-You come too.

this poem was one of the first i ever memorized, this one and “fire and ice,” also by frost. at a young age, i fell in love with frost’s verse. in 12th grade, i borrowed by mother’s edition of “you come, too” and i took it to school to help with the yearbook. i then lost this copy, and was never able to find it. just last year, i found one on ebay and surprised her with it. it was a neat thing to be able to do for her.

anyway, back to the poem. whenever i read this poem, i think of the farm my dad grew up on in tennessee. we were there often as children, i and my two brothers, as well as our parents. i was the only girl cousin my age and therefore had no other girls to play with, and i liked roaming the hills with the boys. when i read this poem, i think of how often i wanted to come, and how often i was allowed to, but also those times when the guys wanted to just be with the guys, not with their younger sister. it’s completely understandable. but, i think it’s also understandable that when i read this poem, when i think of it, i just smile. i hear my brothers telling me where they’re going, and inviting me along. i remember being the youngest child, and wanting to get invited to come along with people, with my parents, even though i couldn’t help. i couldn’t help my dad inspect the jails as an architect when i was young, but i could go play in padded cells. i can still hear him inviting me, saying, “you come, too.” and i hear my brothers saying that, the many times when they let me come, too, even though i would likely have been more of a burden than a help, than a playmate.

this poem makes me wonder at how i can still smile at the remembrance of being helpless and useless, and yet being invited along to be a burden anyway. i hear in the voice of robert frost someone saying that while parts of me coming along may be burdensome, that the owner of the voice wants me to come along. they desire it. how important is it for us to invite people along into our journeys, to be companions, and burdens, to love and be loved, to tag along, even when they can’t help? just think, maybe someone will look back fondly on that moment, and realize that you involved them, even though they weren’t needed, they were wanted. and not only were they wanted, but though they may not have been able to help in the labor of the chores on the farm, they could be involved in the enjoyment of beauty, as they both loved nature and life together.

thanks, robert.