My November Guest

My November Guest

By 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.

 

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.

 

 

About the Poem

 

The title of this poem seemed apropos for today. It’s November, and I have a guest coming. However, I hope my guest’s visit will be a happier one than in “My November Guest.” 

 

“My November Guest” was published in Robert Frost’s first published volume of Frost’s poetry, A Boy’s Will, (1913), which is among the best of Frost’s poems in which he speaks of Fall in rural New Hampshire.

 

The poem is about sorrow. At some point in his life, the poet must have experienced extreme pain and sorrow during the month of November. There is an air of familiarity created by the poet, and he and his guest have walked and talked along the “sodden pasture lane.”  Sorrow is personified as a woman – a friend, companion, and she is considered a regular visitor, and “a guest” She is someone the poet dearly loves.  He is very comfortable in her company and doesn’t wish to be separated from her – “She talks and I am fain to list.”  She is dressed for the weather – that time of year in New England before the first snows of winter – wearing “simple worsted grey.”

 

In the very first line, “My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,” marks the peak of the poet’s togetherness with sorrow.

My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;

Walking with the poet, she (Sorrow) speaks of the beautiful Autumn days, finds ecstasy in the withered trees, and the autumnal browns. Fall is a season marked with desolate earth, deserted trees, the “sodden pasture lane,” and the departure of the birds. The poet’s Sorrow finds beauty in the Autumn days. She reprimands the poet for not being able to experience the joy in Autumn and asks for an explanation. The phrase “Simple worsted grey is silver now with clinging mist” reflects the mood of the poem, the coexistence of joy and sorrow.

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

In the first three stanzas the poet is forced to listen to his ‘guest” extol the virtues of Autumn, “the dark days of autumn rain” and she seems convinced that he has “no eye for” the beauty that surrounds him at this time of year.  Those of us familiar with the poetry of Frost know this to be false and we know that he does appreciate these beauties.  However, the constant repetition of “She” creates a sense of easy familiarity with his guest, “She walks,” “She talks,” “She thinks,” “She’s glad” and, out of respect or deference, he doesn’t make any effort to correct his companion, for ‘they are better for her praise.”  In actual fact, it was not just yesterday that he discovered this fact, he has known it for many a long day:

Not yesterday I learned to know 

The love of bare November days