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Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: My November Guest by Robert Frost

November 30th, 2007 (06:10 am)

Current Mood: awake
Current Song: One Semester of Spanish Spanish Love Song

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

- My November Guest by Robert Frost


Posted by: ((Anonymous))
Posted at: November 30th, 2007 04:03 pm (UTC)
TadMack says:

I hadn't happened upon this one before, and I really like it -- it's very atmospheric for today!

Posted by: Little Willow (slayground)
Posted at: November 30th, 2007 04:07 pm (UTC)
Re: TadMack says:

:) I searched for something specifically for November.

Posted by: kellyrfineman (kellyrfineman)
Posted at: December 1st, 2007 11:05 pm (UTC)
wings of poesy

Oh, my. That is so perfect for the end of November. There's a bleak aspect to late autumn/early winter that he captures perfectly ("her simple worsted gray/ is silver now with clinging mist"). Thanks so much for sharing it, LW!

Posted by: Little Willow (slayground)
Posted at: December 1st, 2007 11:25 pm (UTC)

Isn't it pretty? I really like this poem and I'm glad I found it. Not everyone can find beauty in the gray.

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