November
by William Cullen Bryant
Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun!
One mellow smile through the soft vapory air,
Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run,
Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare.
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees,
And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,
And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee
Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,
The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,
And man delight to linger in thy ray.
Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear
The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.
About William Cullen Bryant
William Cullen Bryant's poetry is affiliated with the Romantics, often reflecting an obsession with nature and a thoughtful desire for silence and solitude. Bryant was born on November 3, 1794. An American nature poet and journalist, Bryant wrote poems, essays, and articles that championed the rights of workers and immigrants. In 1829, Bryant became editor in chief of the New York Evening Post, a position he held until his death in 1878. His influence helped establish important New York civic institutions such as Central Park and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In 1884, New York City's Reservoir Square, at the intersection of 42nd Street and Sixth Avenue, was renamed Bryant Park in his honor.
5 comments:
Goodbye to the summer and fall sun, flowers, and breeze, and hello to winter's cold and darkness......but he fails to mention curling up with someone before the crackling fire in the fireplace, perhaps a glass of mulled wine, and the rapture to be found in his arms........oh, well, I can dream can't I?
A fascinating picture.
The poem captures the season well, although it's a couple of weeks since I heard a cricket and the trees aren't all naked yet.
We'll survive the winter, but I don't look forward to it.
Truly an awesome poem. I really love fall and winter.
Peace <3
Jay
I think Bryant owes something to the great English Romantic poet John Keats, and his ode "To Autumn." Check it out.
OK I went and read the Keats poem, which one source says is the most anthologized in the English language (!) but I think I like the Bryant sonnet (not an ode) equally well. As naturgesetz says, though, at least where I live, and surely in Bryant's New York, even on 1 November the bees and crickets are pretty well done for. And I assume n. is referring to the photo, not the word picture, which I too find fascinating....!
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