November
Sara Teasdale
1884 to 1933
The world is tired, the year is old,
The faded leaves are glad to die,
The wind goes shivering with cold
Where the brown reeds are dry.
Our love is dying like the grass,
And we who kissed grow coldly kind,
Half glad to see our poor love pass
Like leaves along the wind.
Sara Teasdale's November
I am busy working to bring Sara Teasdale's "November" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the home page for other musical arrangements or learn more about Sara Teasdale's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "November" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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