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!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem so wonderfully describes why I love the fall and winter seasons!
Your comments are so interesting Colleen. Just reading them now, as I am a newcomer to this site...a year later than when you must have been reading Edna St.Vincent (Millay) . Thanks for them.