| Poems by Women |
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!
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!
From: Rittenhouse, Jessie B.
The Second Book of Modern Verse (1919).
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
