To The Thawing Wind

Come with rain. O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate'er you do tonight,
Bath my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit's crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o'er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

by Robert Frost

Comments (3)

Nature weaves into life, and Frost as always does it so skillfully.
Brush with Spring's varied sweet scent Paint a path where we shall wend.
........great imagery...I could feel the wind's presence...enjoyed..