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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.

Written by
Robert Frost
1874-1963 / Male / American
Lines·Words
15·85
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