Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WINTER WINDS, by ROBERT FROST



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WINTER WINDS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: At twelve o'clock tonight
Last Line: Not to be oft aroused.
Subject(s): Wind


At twelve o'clock tonight,
When every house is dark,
Who ride the roads alone?
The winds of winter. Hark!

The moon is clear above,
The earth is hard below;
And with a little dust
They drive a little snow.

They make the maples roar,
The withered flowers hiss,
Along the way they go
On such a night as this.

The winds usurp the earth,
And even safely housed,
Folk must cling fast to sleep
Not to be oft aroused.





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