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My November Guest. Robert Frost. 1874 –. 1963. 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.
- A Time to Talk
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five...
- Not to Keep
One of the most celebrated figures in American poetry,...
- A Time to Talk
The poem suggests the importance of making space for sorrow, which can teach people to see beauty in unexpected places. It also illustrates how connecting with nature is one way of feeling less alone. Frost published "My November Guest" in his first poetry collection, A Boy's Will, in 1913.
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Famous Nature Poem. The landscape of New England influenced many of Robert Frost’s poems, which can be seen in “My November Guest.” In this poem, sorrow is personified as someone the speaker loved. While the speaker sees things one way, Sorrow sees them differently. She sees the beauty in autumn, while the poet cannot.
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My November Guest by Robert Frost - Meaning, Themes, Analysis and Literary Devices - American Poems. 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.
Written in a simple language characterized by music and melody, My November Guest expresses the poet's love of the "bare November days, before the coming of the snow". The pictorial detail is noteworthy. Frost uses personification as another kind of metaphor to good effect. Tags: Poetry Robert Frost.
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 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.
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.
