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
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