To The Thawing Wind
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Giver the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam'
Find the brown beneath the white;
But what'er you do tonight,
Bathe 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;
Run the rattling pages o'er,
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
Robert Frost
"A Boy's Will" 1913
Not one of his best, but apropos. I shall let it turn me out of doors in hopes of an "uprising." It is time for Spring cleaning.
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