11.02.2006

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.

Posted by {B}dreamy

1 comment:

  1. {B}dreamy9:47 PM

    Melancholy? You don't think the words are just beautiful? If you substitute his use of "she" for me, it's exactly how I feel when I take my Autumn walks. I'm not Sorrow, but I do appreciate the mood of the season. And yes, I took the picture in the yard.

    ReplyDelete

You're currently in the process of making my day. So thanks for that! *B

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