Robert Frost-American Poet

Tree at my Window


Tree at my window,
window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawnBetween you and me.
Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground
,And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloudCould be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
ou 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.