Part III: A Boy’s Will – Now Close the Windows

— 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.