Treasure Island

Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

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.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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  • Andrew Hoellering (1/4/2010 3:09:00 AM)

    The poem describes how much is lost to the poet by the simple act of closing the window, but as so often when one loses one source of happiness, another remains.
    (Line six incidentally should read, ‘It will be long ere the earliest bird.’) (Report) Reply

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