Poem by Robert Lee Frost

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 now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.

It will be long ere the marshes resume,
I will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.

1. Brown’s Descent
2. Pea Brush
3. Hyla Brook
4. Pan with Us
5. In Neglect

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