A Robert Frost Poem for Gardeners: Lodged

"In six little lines, Robert connects himself to the flowers in the flowerbed.
Pelted by the wind and rain, the flowers manage to survive."

March 26, 1874

Today is the birthday of the American poet and Poet Laureate Robert Frost.

Here's a short, sweet poem (and a gardener favorite) by Robert Frost called ‘Lodged.’

In six little lines, Robert connects himself to the flowers in the flowerbed. Pelted by the wind and rain, the flowers manage to survive.

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.

Notes on Lodged by Robert Frost from The Robert Frost Encyclopedia By Nancy L. Tuten and John Zubizarreta

Lodged was first published in the New Republic (6 Feb. 1924) and later in West-Running Brook (1928).

Like so many of Frost's poems, "Lodged" depicts the poet's cautious consideration of nature's powers.

Nature is not always beneficent; indeed, "Lodged" posits a malevolent alliance between the rain and wind.

Each element, strong enough to destroy on its own, will conjoin forces to pummel the fragile blossoms to the earth: "You push and I'll pelt."

The flowers surrender, but importantly, they are "not dead."

In his final line, Frost moves from a romantic contemplation to a rustic philosophical reflection: "I know how the flowers felt."

The speaker has been similarly battered by vast, impersonal forces; he, too, has endured personally destructive onslaughts. He
does not, however, identify the source of his traumas, nor does he articulate their exact nature; such a mystery properly remains implied but unstated.