Sonnets - Part 8
You have not known the autumns I have known —
November for you has bloomed as bright as spring,
With tropic suns to glow and birds to sing,
And flowers more vivid than mine in August blown.
You have made besides those autumns half your own
That come with ice and sleet and wind to sting
The blood itself to ruddy blossoming:
Such autumns as the bleak North knows alone.
My autumns are merely quiet, and they show
Straight limbs that are bared alike of leaves and snow —
Yet it is only thus you can know the trees!
Love proud enough to forego bloom and song,
To strip the bough of foliage; bare and strong
To bide your judgment, would be most like these.
November for you has bloomed as bright as spring,
With tropic suns to glow and birds to sing,
And flowers more vivid than mine in August blown.
You have made besides those autumns half your own
That come with ice and sleet and wind to sting
The blood itself to ruddy blossoming:
Such autumns as the bleak North knows alone.
My autumns are merely quiet, and they show
Straight limbs that are bared alike of leaves and snow —
Yet it is only thus you can know the trees!
Love proud enough to forego bloom and song,
To strip the bough of foliage; bare and strong
To bide your judgment, would be most like these.
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