Caricamento in corso...

Now Close the Windows

Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
  If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing in them 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.
Altre opere di Robert Frost...