The first lines of a haunting Robert Frost poem have been tossing around inside my head today, as I remember with great sadness the loss of our seventeen year old friend one year ago. This is a poem for November, but it suits me today, so I'll share it here. When we grieve, I believe it helps to find solace in natural beauty... even in the stark days of autumn as the colors of the year fall away.
My November Guest
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.
~ Robert Frost
photo of the backyard late this afternoon, taken through the window. There is light snow mixed with rain falling, though it doesn't show clearly.
My November Guest
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.
~ Robert Frost
photo of the backyard late this afternoon, taken through the window. There is light snow mixed with rain falling, though it doesn't show clearly.
11 comments:
Thank you Aisling, for sharing that poem.
I understand.
Thank you, Robbin. I wish you did not understand so well about sorrow.
Thinking of you, Aisling. Frost had much sorrow in his own life, I believe. I recently bought a biography since my knowledge of him is pretty sketchy.
Aisling you are in my thoughts.
Thank you for the poem.
You'll have to let me know if it is a good biography. I have never read much about his life either, but enough his writing very much.
Thank you for stopping by and for letting me know that you are thinking of me. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.
Ernestine,
Thank you for letting me know you are thinking of me. :)
Aisling,
Beautiful and sad. I'm sorry for your loss.~~Dee
Dee, Thank you so much.
Editorial note:
My response to Nan should say "but enjoy his writing very much."
Aisling, I am so sorry for such a tragic loss. They poem is so beautiful, much like today, are first little bit of rain. I would love to use this poem on my blog. Is that OK? I have no idea if that is "OK" in blogland!
Inspiring as always. Thank you for your sweet comment on my blog too. :)
Linda, Thank you for your visit here. This Robert Frost poem is certainly beautiful, and evocative of the season and the emotions that seem right at home in November, isn't it?
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