In “My November Guest,” sorrow appears as a female companion who finds late autumn beautiful. She loves dark rainy days, bare withered trees, the sodden pasture lane, the missing birds, and the mist that turns her plain grey clothes silver. Her pleasure won’t let the speaker stay distant; she talks and he is willing to listen. She sees beauty in the desolate trees, faded earth, and heavy sky, and she worries that he has no eye for it. But the speaker quietly admits he has long known how to love bare November days before snow; he simply doesn’t tell her, because the days are better for her praise. The mood is tender and melancholy, treating sorrow as a familiar visitor who makes the stark landscape feel intimate and strangely comforting.
My November Guest — Summary
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.