Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the caged yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
Hi everyone! So today's little touch of love comes from the great Robert Frost (aptly named, as a lot of his poems had ice themes. Go figure). Frost has some of my favorite imagery, and he does so well personifying some rather obscure items; in this case wind and a potted plant. I'm pretty sure we're supposed to sympathize with the wind in this poem, rather than the plant. I'm not really sure, but the plant sounds really aloof. That might just be me though. This wind is looking in on her every night (wow, that came out really stalker-ish) and all she can do is sit there and think "wow, I'm a plant. Go me!" When she finally realizes that the wind wanted her, she falls over and pouts. Go figure. Anyway, moral of my story today: don't be a plant or the wind, they both suck.
Signing off ~Sam Zimmerman
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