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 grey
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
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 grey
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
10 comments:
Why don't we still have poets like this? Ah, DEI...
What a dumb thing to say. Poetry and prose do not remain the same, otherwise we’d still be reading poems that sound like this:
“Whither, 'midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?”
Thank Darwin for DEI
Frost is the best. Thanks for posting, Shaw.
It's too cold today!! Damn DEI!!!
Thersites wants to make poetry white...er...great again.
Time to put 'merit' back into the Western Civ Canon!
Nothing remains the same. Except space and time..
Even our human concepts of time are flawed. As past, present, and future do not really exist. The past is gone, the future has not yet arrived, and the present is but the continuing flow of ever present nowness.
Thersites is stuck in the paradigm of past, skips over nowness, and muses over the future. Many do.
Time to toss Western individualism into the Western trash can of ignorance and confusion. And that includes Western Civ Canon.
Joe Con sounds like a very Proud Boy.
Indeed!
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