A Springtime Poem

With temperatures in the hight 40s and even in the 50s, and my mind on the warming garden, I thought it was about time for a little Frost.

To the Thawing Wind

Robert Frost

Come with rain, o loud Southwester!

Bring the singer, bring the nester;

Give the buried flower a dream;

Make the settled snow-bank steam;

Find the brown beneath the white;

But whate'er you do to-night,

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;

Swing the pictures on the wall;

Run the rattling pages o'er;

Scatters poems on the floor;

Turn the poet out of door.

From "A Boy's Will", 1913