And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon,
By loving something, we discover responsibility for it, just as the narrator “finds them”. The mower may not have spared the flowers deliberately, the flowers represent beauty that is incidental to man, or perhaps accidental. They are not only “for us”, but for nature. Frost is often impressed by worlds outside the human, which he explores in After Apple Picking and Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening. 
 The narrator is comforted by the idea that the mower acted consciously; it confirms the spiritual existence of humanity, outside his limited experiences.
The Tuft of Flowers