It’s November finally, which means a few different things:
- I’m pulling out my winter scented candles and wall flowers. Fresh Balsam, anyone?
- Christmas music 24/7.
- Christmas decor is coming out of storage!!!
- Lots of baking. I’m talking pie, gingerbread houses, bread, you name it.
- I’ll be reading all of the Christmas books I own.
November is the best month because it means that the holiday season has officially arrived. Not to mention, it contains my most favorite ever holiday, Thanksgiving. This November is sure to be excellent! And without further ado, here is a November poem by 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
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.