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||Here's where the train ride ends.||

Created on 2004-08-21 16:52:48 (#4271918), last updated 2007-09-11

319 comments received, 282 comments posted

Basic Info
Name:My November Guest
Birthdate:12-29
Location:Michigan, United States
Website:LJ
Bio
Wow. This guy's work is amazing: http://www.newenglandruins.com/


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 walks 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 grey
Is silver now with clinging mist. 10

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




<----Was that amazing/sad or what!? Who has read the book!? Represent! Comment me!
www.darkmark.com/forum

THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE HIGH-LANDER! TIRES CANNOT DEFEAT ME!
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