1My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
2Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
3Are beautiful as days can be;
4She loves the bare, the withered tree;
5She walks the sodden pasture lane.
6Her pleasure will not let me stay.
7She talks and I am fain to list:
8She’s glad the birds are gone away,
9She’s glad her simple worsted grey
10Is silver now with clinging mist.
11The desolate, deserted trees,
12The faded earth, the heavy sky,
13The beauties she so truly sees,
14She thinks I have no eye for these,
15And vexes me for reason why.
16Not yesterday I learned to know
17The love of bare November days
18Before the coming of the snow,
19But it were vain to tell her so,
20And they are better for her praise.
The speaker of Robert Frost's "My November Guest" personifies "Sorrow," comparing her to a "guest" who walks with the speaker through the countryside and delights in autumn's moody beauty. In listening to her "praise" the dark, wet, and empty landscape, the speaker learns to be charmed by fall's stark "beauties" as well. The poem suggests the importance of making space for sorrow, which can teach people to see beauty in unexpected places. It also illustrates how connecting with nature is one way of feeling less alone. Frost published "My November Guest" in his first poetry collection, A Boy's Will, in 1913.
When my deep sadness comes to visit me, she finds the gloomy, rainy days of fall quite lovely. She's drawn to the stark, shriveled trees as she wanders down the soggy path through the field.
The delight she takes in the setting convinces me to join her. I'm happy to listen as she speaks. She's happy that the birds have migrated for the season, and she loves how the mist sticks to the wool of her plain, grey clothes, making them glitter like silver.
The lonely, abandoned trees, the colorless landscape with its murky sky hanging above—she's able to fully appreciate the beauty in all this yet thinks I'm immune to it, and she pesters me for an explanation.
Yet, I have recently discovered a fondness for the simple, sparse loveliness of the fall, in the days before the first snow. I just don't see the point in telling her—after all, the autumn seems all the more charming in light of her admiration for it.
The speaker of “My November Guest” personifies “sorrow” as a woman who delights in autumn’s gloomy beauty. As the speaker walks with this “guest” through the dark, rainy countryside, she revels in the barren landscape and urges the speaker to appreciate fall’s muted splendor as well. The speaker admits that they do in fact “have [an] eye” for November’s “beauties,” but doesn’t see the point in telling her, as her vehement admiration only renders them all the more appealing. The poem thus suggests the value of making room for sadness and grief, emotions that can add unexpected beauty and richness to life.
The speaker compares their “sorrow” to a welcome “guest” who convinces the speaker to go on walks despite the grey, drizzly weather. As “She walks the sodden pasture lane” (or a soaking meadow path), the speaker says, “Her pleasure will not let me stay.” That is, because the speaker’s sorrow is so enamored by the “dark days of autumn rain,” the speaker, too, feels compelled to wander around outside.
While the speaker might normally prefer a warm, sunny day, sadness makes them appreciate “the bare” and “withered tree.” Indeed, in this sorrowful state of mind, the speaker finds these “mist[y]” days as “beautiful as days can be.” That the speaker has come to admire autumn “Not yesterday” (or no sooner than yesterday) suggests that it was sorrow herself who taught the speaker to see the beauty in the dark and dreary world.
Sorrow, for her part, thinks the speaker doesn’t appreciate the splendor of the “faded earth, the heavy sky,” and she pesters the speaker to explain "why" this is so. In reality, the speaker has begun to “know / The love of bare November days.” The speaker just doesn’t want to tell “sorrow” this, because her attempts to convince the speaker of fall's bleak beauty only deepen the speaker's own appreciation of the quiet landscape.
In this way, the poem implies that by indulging one’s sorrow (i.e., treating it like a welcome “guest” and listening to it "talk[]"), one can learn more about the world and oneself. Though it may be hard to let it in, sadness and grief are ultimately teachers: through them, one can find unanticipated beauty and joy.
In addition to asserting the power of sorrow, “My November Guest” also illustrates the value of connecting with the natural world. Though the poem doesn’t specify what has caused the speaker's “sorrow,” it's clear that going outside and taking a walk through the countryside eases the speaker's mind and lifts their spirits. The speaker finds nature comforting not because it distracts them from their “sorrow,” but because it seems to reflect it. It's as if these "bare November days" were grieving with the speaker, making them feel less alone.
Forlorn, the speaker takes a walk through the countryside and is drawn to its “desolate” beauty. The speaker isn't being drawn in by a bright, sparkling, summer landscape, however. Instead, the speaker is enchanted by “sodden” paths, the absence of birdsong, the “mist [clinging]” to their clothes, and the “deserted trees.”
All this gloominess actually seems to make the speaker less sad, perhaps because such a landscape acknowledges the speaker's sorrow. Indeed, nature's beauty doesn’t make the speaker's pain go away; it simply reflects it. The speaker says that their “sorrow [...] / Thinks these dark days of autumn rain” are lovely. This suggests that the speaker finds the “bare” and “withered tree[s]” and “faded earth” appealing because they're feeling dejected. The “dark[ness]” and “heav[iness]” of autumn resonate with the speaker’s bleak state of mind, seemingly expressing their sadness and isolation. Nature seems to mirror the speaker's innermost self, ultimately making the speaker feel a little less dejected and alone. The speaker comes to “love” the “bare[ness]” of the season, in part because the speaker feels like they're part of this landscape. Seeing themselves in the world makes the speaker's sadness more bearable.
My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
"My November Guest" begins with the speaker personifying their "sorrow" as a woman who has come to visit. Treating sorrow as a "guest" implies that the speaker isn't always sad (and that this "sorrow" is something separate from the speaker rather than an inherent part of who they are). When this sorrow does swing by, however, "she" makes the speaker see the world differently.
That's because the speaker's sorrow "Thinks these dark days of autumn rain / Are as beautiful as days can be." In other words, the speaker thinks that the gloomy, rainy days of fall are just as lovely as anything else. Diacope (the repetition of the word "days") creates a pleasing rhythm while simultaneously emphasizing the fact that these "days" are both "dark" and "beautiful." The pounding /d/ alliteration in "dark days" adds emphasis to this phrase, which describes both the weather and the "dark[ness]" of the speaker's thoughts and feelings. It's as if the countryside is mirroring the speaker's inner landscape.
The poem is written in iambic tetrameter. This means that each line contains four iambs, poetic feet made up of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable: da-DUM. Here's the first line, for example:
My sor- | row, when | she's here | with me,
The meter stays very regular throughout the poem, lending it a familiar, predictable rhythm. This steadiness, in turn, suggests both the understated loveliness of the season and the speaker's thoughtful, contemplative state of mind.
That said, there is a minor variation on this meter in line 2:
Thinks these | dark days | of aut- | umn rain
By replacing the second iamb with a spondee (two stressed syllables in a row), Frost ensures that the phrase "dark days" stands out even more to the reader's ear.
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
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Get LitCharts A+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 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.
The gloomy autumn weather symbolizes the speaker's sadness. Readers might even consider much of the poem's imagery to be an example of pathetic fallacy: the speaker projects their inner turmoil into their surroundings, seeing their emotions reflected in the "dark days of autumn," with their "desolate, deserted trees," "faded earth," and "heavy sky." All these descriptions imply that the speaker, too, feels "desolated," "faded," and "heavy"; the speaker is dejected, sapped of energy, and weighed down by sorrow.
The poem makes clear that there's also unexpected beauty in this dreary landscape. This, in turn, means that there's tender beauty in the speaker's sadness. This emotion opens the speaker up to the humble, somber loveliness of the world in "November." It grants space for peace, reflection, and unexpected wonder.
The speaker personifies their "sorrow" throughout the poem, treating this emotion as if it were a female guest who, in expressing her love of the gloomy landscape, teaches the speaker to love it, too. Treating sorrow as a visitor implies that the speaker's sadness has a will of its own, and, it follows, that it isn't entirely within the speaker's control.
Like a guest, the speaker's sorrow isn't always around, either; the speaker doesn't always feel sad. But when sorrow does visit, she tends to see things differently than the speaker normally would. The speaker's sorrow "loves the bare, the withered tree," but the speaker themselves seems to need a little convincing (at least, at first).
The speaker says that sorrow "walks the sodden pasture lane" ahead of him. As she delights in the stark scenery around her—the lack of "birds," the "clinging mist" that's turning her clothes "silver"—the speaker says that "Her pleasure will not let [the speaker] stay." In other words, the speaker goes out to join her because she makes the landscape seem so appealing. Were it not for her, the speaker would have just stayed home. Somewhat ironically, then, the speaker's sadness leads to unexpected pleasure.
The speaker doesn't want to tell their sorrow this, however, because doing so would spoil things; as long as she thinks that the speaker doesn't appreciate the beauty of autumn, she'll keep talking it up. The poem implies that the speaker has come to value not only the gloom and splendor of the season but also the very emotion that's allowed the speaker to "truly see[]" that beauty in the first place.
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Get LitCharts A+Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Dried up; shriveled.
"My November Guest" is made up of 20 lines arranged into four quintains (five-line stanzas). The poem feels quite steady and controlled throughout thanks to a consistent iambic meter, line length, and rhyme pattern in each stanza (more on those under the Meter and Rhyme Scheme sections of this guide). Add in Frost's simple language, and the poem sounds distinctly straightforward and approachable—even as it contains complex ideas about despair.
This is true of Frost's poetry more generally. Though Frost was writing during the modernist movement, when many poets were rebelling against old traditions and experimenting with how poems looked or sounded, his own work was less concerned with disrupting formal rules and exceptions. Instead, he used familiar shapes and rhythms to plumb the depths of human experience.
"My November Guest" is written in iambic tetrameter, meaning that lines are composed of four iambs—metrical feet that follow an unstressed-stressed pattern of syllables (da-DUM). Here's the first line of the poem scanned:
My sor- | row, when | she's here | with me,
Iambic tetrameter lends a familiar rhythm to the poem. The meter is also very consistent throughout. There aren't any major metrical surprises here, which adds to the sense of a relaxed, contemplative speaker strolling through the autumn landscape.
Line 2 is the only line in the poem that disrupts this rhythm:
Thinks these | dark days | of aut- | umn rain
The second foot here is a spondee (a foot made up of two stressed syllables in a row: DUM-DUM). This emphasizes the "dark days" the speaker will go on to describe at length, suggesting that they are of central importance to the poem. Despite these deviations, though, the meter still feels mostly intact: this line still contains eight syllables, and half of its feet are iambic. In other words, Frost isn't doing anything wild here; when he does deviate from the poem's meter, he does so subtly.
The poem follows a strict ABAAB rhyme scheme, giving it a very predictable rhythm throughout. Each of the poem's end rhymes is exact—"me" rhymes fully with "be" and "tree," "rain" rhymes fully with "lane," and so on. Note, too, that all but one of the rhyming words are made up of a single syllable: "me," "be," "tree," etc. (Only "away" in line 4 has two syllables.) Frost uses simple, familiar language throughout the poem, echoing the fact that the great "beauties" the speaker is describing are in actuality quite ordinary: a rainy "sky," "mist" sticking to one's clothes, "trees" that have lost their leaves for the winter.
The speaker of "My November Guest" is more or less a version of Robert Frost himself, as the poems in A Boy's Will (the collection in which this poem was published) are autobiographical. Like Frost, this speaker seems at home in the countryside, with only their own lonely thoughts for company. Of course, the poem doesn't have to be read through the lens of Frost's life—the speaker could easily be anyone who's ever felt "sorrow" and found some kind of "beaut[y]" in it.
In any case, the speaker is drawn to the "desolate, deserted" landscape of the countryside because its empty "trees" and "heavy sky" reflect their own dejected state of mind. But by personifying "sorrow" as a welcome "guest" who convinces the speaker to wander around in the "dark days of autumn," the poem suggests that there is a part of the speaker that revels in the cheerless, "faded" beauty of "November."
The poem takes place in a rural November landscape during the "dark days of autumn rain." The setting is decidedly gloomy: the trees are "bare" and "withered" (they've lost their leaves), the paths through fields are "sodden" (or soggy), and the "birds" have "gone away" (migrated for the winter). In their barrenness, the trees seem "desolate" and "deserted," as though they've been abandoned by the life and vibrancy of summer. The "earth" itself is "faded," implying that all the color has drained out of it, and the "sky" is "heavy" with rain and clouds.
This dark, dismal landscape seems to mirror the speaker's own inner dejection. Of course, the speaker eventually comes to admire these "bare November days / Before the coming of the snow," seeing in them a unique, unexpected beauty (perhaps because they reflect how the speaker feels). There is something welcoming about the stark beauty of all this absence which perhaps suggests the speaker isn't alone in their sorrow.
"My November Guest" appeared in Robert Frost's first collection, A Boy's Will, published in 1913 in England (and reprinted in the United States in 1915). The title of the book is a reference to "My Lost Youth" by famed New England poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, which includes the lines:
A boy's will is the wind's will
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
According to Frost, A Boy’s Will is autobiographical; the poems in the book more or less cover a period of five years in the poet's life in which he retreated from society and later found his way back. "My November Guest" is the third poem in the collection, which as a whole explores humanity's relationship to the natural world, rural life, and individuality—all of which are themes that Frost would return to again and again throughout his life. These themes also link Frost with other New England poets such as Emily Dickinson and Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Frost's poetry rather uniquely straddles the line between the traditions of 19th-century American poetry and the experimentation of 20th-century modernism. Compared to the very deliberate departures from traditional forms and techniques that his contemporaries (such as T.S. Eliot) were making, Frost was not particularly interested in innovation for innovation's sake. While many poets in the aftermath of the first World War were breaking away from formal restrictions, Frost typically used more conventional meter and rhyme. At the same time, he used frank, contemporary language that tied his work in some ways to the Imagist poets.
Frost himself consistently shied away from associating with any one particular school of writing. Instead, his work is notable for its incorporation of various traditions and techniques while also remaining highly accessible.
Though he lived through both World War I and II and saw many significant social and political shifts in his lifetime, Frost hardly ever wrote directly about history or politics. Instead, Frost's poetry is known for dealing with rural New England life and identity. Having lived and worked on a New Hampshire farm from 1900-1912, Frost's interest in rural life, nature, and New England is an extension of his time working the land in what he considered to be the best part of America.
With an eye for austerity and tragedy, Frost's work is known for its realism, particularly as it pertains to the difficulties of rural life and the indifference of nature. Like many poets of his time, Frost had a somewhat pessimistic view of the modern world that was perhaps intensified by his own significant personal losses. His father died of tuberculosis when he was only 11, leaving behind only eight dollars for the family. His mother died of cancer five years later, in 1900, and in 1920 his younger sister was committed to a psychiatric institution, where she later died. Both Frost and his wife also struggled with depression.
In spite of, or more like because of, these personal trials, Frost wrote diligently about individuals searching for meaning and finding, most often in nature, some kind of mirror for their own situations. His poems tend to highlight ordinary moments in which extraordinary or profound insights occur.
Listen to a Recording of the Poem — Hear "My November Guest" read aloud.
First Edition of A Boy's Will — A listing for a first edition of Frost's first book, A Boy's Will, in which "My November Guest" was published.
Learn More About the Poet's Life — A Poetry Foundation biography of Frost.
A 1988 PBS Documentary of Frost — Watch a detailed documentary of the poet from the Voices and Vision series.
A Look at Frost's Relationship to Farming — A New Yorker article discussing Frost's early years on farms and their significance to his poetry.