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Posts Tagged ‘My November Guest by Robert Frost

Mood: After work-y
Music: Opeth-By the Pain I See in Others


Hi Internets!  I don’t know about where you live, but it is the freezing here in Colorado…literally…like it might snow tonight, freezing.  And I couldn’t be happier.  I’ve mentioned before that I love autumn.  I like winter too (unless it has outstayed its welcome) and something tells me we’re due for a nice, long, junior Ice Age freezup here in the northern Americas.

File:Millais leaves.jpg

It's "Autumn Leaves" by John Everett Millais! I know, it's a bit on the nose, but what is the story with the girls and the leaves? I'm pretty sure they've hidden a freshly butchered corpse in there.

To celebrate the dawn of the northern death cycle, I’ve been listening to loads of grim, frigid metal (mostly Opeth, Katatonia, Lifelover, and Liturgy), and reading dour poetry.  To wit:

1.
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the Year
On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Is lying.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.

2.
The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,
The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling
For the Year;
The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
To his dwelling;
Come, Months, come away;
Put on white, black, and gray;
Let your light sisters play–
Ye, follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And make her grave green with tear on tear.

Autumn: A Dirge by Percy Bysshe Shelley

———————————————————————

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 gray
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.

My November Guest by Robert Frost

Other than loving the cold weather and building a proper wicker man with the kitty, things have been quiet and nice.  Last week’s trip to Washington D.C. was lovely, amazing, fun, and draining.  I have a whole lot to say about that trip, but haven’t found the time or motivation to properly bloggy up the stories.   That’s been a theme of late–I’m long on ideas and short on time and motivation.

Oh, and my annual review is tomorrow and I’m kind of excited about it.  It’s hard to believe that I came out to my boss six months ago at my mid-year review.  Hopefully, this one will be more drama free.

So anyway, this is me, checking in, reminding you to love fall, read poetry, and listen to more black metal.

Do you have any dour, autumnal poetry or lyrics you’d like to share?  How do you get ready for the best season of the year?  Which Halloween costume did you decide on?  Why haven’t you picked out a costume yet?!

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an introduction





Hi, I'm Anna and I love cheese!

This blog is a chronicle of my life and a catalog of happy ephemera. The About page has a little bit more information, but, remember, none of this is really me...it's just a supplement, a thumbnail sketch, a mostly anonymous Intarwebs placeholder. I'm way better/less wordy in person. :-)

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