Tree at my Window, by Robert Frost

[labellementeuse]

Tree at my Window

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

--Robert Frost

My favourite Frost ever, and I'm pretty fond of Frost in general. Try reading this one aloud.

Also, I'm doing a poem a day in nz_poetry, so check that out too. :)

God, this is hard; all my poetry books are home in CHCH. *sigh*