Frost wrote the poem, Lodged. The first two lines are these:
The rain to the wind said,
“You push and I’ll pelt,”
I erred Friday by leaving a window open a crack before I went out. It rained while I was away. Our Works of Robert Frost is toast. The wind and rain pushed and pelted—and for a short time, the wind howled just for good measure. I was sad to find the book in ruins, but it reminded me that once you know the words and the music, the printed score doesn’t quite matter as much.
(I know, I know. Mixed and messy metaphors. The entire poem follows.)
The rain to the wind said,
‘You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.
—
I know how the flowers felt.
