The Summer Birds Are Gone Away

211. The Summer Birds Are Gone Away, Oil on Linen, 30x40 Inches, Painted May 2015-April 2016, $8000.jpg
211. The Summer Birds Are Gone Away, Oil on Linen, 30x40 Inches, Painted May 2015-April 2016, $8000.jpg
211. The Summer Birds Are Gone Away, Oil on Linen, 30x40 Inches, Painted May 2015-April 2016, $8000.jpg
211. The Summer Birds Are Gone Away, Oil on Linen, 30x40 Inches, Painted May 2015-April 2016, $8000.jpg
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The Summer Birds Are Gone Away

8,000.00

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be;

She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walked the sodden pasture lane.

 

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 gray

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.

 

Robert Frost

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