Monday, November 15, 2010

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 grady
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so ryly 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


Carolyn said...

Hi Paula,
Beautiful photo and poem. Nice to hear from you today.
Hope all is well with you.


Kim said...

At first the MY SORROW..scared me a little. But I love the photo and have never read the poem. Miss you Hope you are well...update please in my email box!....xxoo

Emakesart said...

WOW!!! Did you take this photo? It is breathtaking and your choice of poem goes wonderfully with it.