As autumn turns toward winter, the speaker keeps remembering a woman who hated the cold. October and November bring back her face at the window, watching swallows leave, sighing at the bare trees and the wind. She seemed not just uncomfortable but trapped and frightened — “a scared thing / Sitting in a net.” The speaker, by contrast, can see the season’s beauty: the soft snow, the bare branches, the fire, the kettle. Yet the memory of her fear lingers, and the repeated opening and closing lines make it feel like an ache that returns every year. The mood is tender, sorrowful, and quietly haunting, shaped less by winter itself than by the pain of remembering someone who could not find comfort in it.
When the Year Grows Old — Summary
I cannot but remember When the year grows old-- October--November-- How she disliked the cold!
She used to watch the swallows Go down across the sky, And turn from the window With a little sharp sigh.
And often when the brown leaves Were brittle on the ground, And the wind in the chimney Made a melancholy sound,
She had a look about her That I wish I could forget-- The look of a scared thing Sitting in a net!
Oh, beautiful at nightfall The soft spitting snow! And beautiful the bare boughs Rubbing to and fro!
But the roaring of the fire, And the warmth of fur, And the boiling of the kettle Were beautiful to her!
I cannot but remember When the year grows old-- October--November-- How she disliked the cold!