Wednesday, November 22, 2017

When November Rains... "She talks and I am fain to list"


My November Guest
Robert Frost




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 walked 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].


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