Now Close the Windows

by Robert Frost

    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,
    It will be long ere the earliest bird:
    So close the windows and not hear the wind,
    But see all wind-stirred.