by Robert Frost
Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
It will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
Do you choose a poet each season to spend time with? What a wonderful idea!
(And btw, thanks for the quote of the week award 😉 Word has it that Mr. Putter’s attempts to capture anything on paper were pitiful.)
I love Robert Frost.
My daughter and I spend a few weeks talking about a particular person. We both enjoy it.