The end of November is nigh and we are on the precipice of December. With that said, I thought I would share this poem by Sara Teasdale, which is about November itself. I am always on the lookout for November poems–ones that really capture the spirit without turkey and gravy–and I think this one does a great job.
Teasdale was a Missouri poet, and 1917 Pulitzer Prize winner for Love Songs, a collection of poetry featuring the poems “Barter,” “Night Song at Amalfi,” and “A Cry.” Additionally, the collection featured today’s poem, “November.”
In this poem, Teasdale comforts a lost love by comparing it to the dying year. The use of “tired” and “glad” don’t necessarily ring menacing, but rather undercuts the overall theme with comfort. That is to say, we are happy to move on. However, with transition in life comes the harsh reality that moving ahead can be painful, as in “shivering with cold” and “dying like the grass.” Nevertheless, the ones we “kissed grow coldly kind” implies that while the loving is gone, the kindness can remain in a state of “half glad” remembrance.
With that said, enjoy this poem by Sara Teasdale, and if you have thoughts or opinions, please post them in the comments.
“November” by Sara Teasdale
—
The world is tired, the year is old,
The fading leaves are glad to die,
The wind goes shivering with cold
Where the brown reeds are dry.—
Our love is dying like the grass,
And we who kissed grow coldly kind,
Half glad to see our old love pass
Like leaves along the wind.
Works Cited
Teasdale, Sara. “November.” Public Domain Poetry. Web. https://public-domain-poetry.com/sara-teasdale/november-1911
