Robert Lee Frost (Роберт Ли Фрост)

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.

1. The Need of Being Versed in Country Things
2. Reluctance
3. On Looking up by Chance at the Constellations
4. The Egg and the Machine
5. Pea Brush

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