by Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)

Language: English 
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.

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Composition:

    Set to music by Andrea Clearfield (b. 1960), "Be it my loss", subtitle: "It is time to make an end of speaking", first performed 2013 [ mezzo-soprano, baritone, and piano ], from The Drift of Things; Winter Songs, no. 9, Self-published, Angelfire Press ; in Part III, "Einsamkeit (Loneliness/Solitude)"

Text Authorship:

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2004-02-09
Line count: 8
Word count: 59