Friday, November 13, 2009

Poetry Friday: November

When I read poems like this one, I give thanks that I live in the tropics, where November is beautiful and warm and I can go to the beach, as I did last weekend. I am happy if this is the closest I get to gloomy November chill. Yet there's something irresistible about de la Mare's melancholy.


There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.

Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.

Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.

Walter de la Mare

Here's the Poetry Friday roundup for today.


Janet said...

Yes, that's what November is like here -- feeling the loss of color and warmth.

I like having 4 seasons, I just wish winter weren't so long. Maybe the last line describes the dread of winter.

I'm glad you posted today!

Ruth said...

Janet, let's get together for cookies today! Your country or mine? I have better weather but you have the cookies...

Janet said...

Come here! There's a big book sale today, and we can have cookies afterward!

Ruth said...

Oh, I would love that!

laurasalas said...

What a beautiful poem! Thanks for sharing it!

I grew up in Fla., btw, and couldn't stand year-round heat. I love to be here in Minnesota, enjoying the pros and cons of every season. Fall is my favorite, and this poem really captures that end-of-fall feeling.