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Robert 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 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 sticksLike 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.


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