Our Winter Poet
January 10, 2006 @ 3:10 am | Filed under: Poetry
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.
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2 Reponses | Comments Feed
Karen E. says:
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 š Word has it that Mr. Putter’s attempts to capture anything on paper were pitiful.)
On January 10, 2006 at 5:31 am
Vegan Momma says:
I love Robert Frost.
My daughter and I spend a few weeks talking about a particular person. We both enjoy it.
On January 12, 2006 at 8:16 am