I've selected a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay titled When the Years Grows Old to post today.
When the Year Grows Old
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!
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!
Click here to read the rest of the poem.
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Sorry that I haven't been posting more frequently. I've been reading and evaluating lots of books as I am one of three judges for the 2019 Margaret Wise Brown Prize in Children's Literature--along with E.B. Lewis and Laura McGee Kvasnosky--and a first round judge for the Cybils Poetry Award.
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You'll find the Poetry Friday Roundup at Carol's Corner today.
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4 comments:
I love when a more classical poet creeps into the lineup, and this poem is perfect for this time of year. I can't believe you are judging TWO different events. I'm panicked about how I'm going to get twenty more CYBILS books read by December 14! Good luck!
Carol,
It's not easy reading all these books while providing daycare and after school care for my two granddaughters!
I wonder who "she" is?
This is lovely, but has that taste of growing old like the year, to think over every December, right? I know you're busy, but what joy it must be to read all that lovely poetry. Happy Sunday, Elaine!
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