One of the beauties of poetry is that it can be
interpreted in different ways by different readers, as each person brings his/her
personal perceptions and experiences to the reading
process.
In my reading of The November
Guest, I don't hear the speaker saying that he is unable to react due to the
sorrow he has experienced. The speaker recognizes that his surroundings are what many
people would interpret as being bleak, depressing and sorrowful in nature. The trees are
barren, the ground is wet and sloppy, there are no colorful birds - actually, the only
color mentioned in the poem is grey.
However, the speaker
sees beauty in these images. He states that he has "learned to know the love of bare
November days" and, in spite of the presence of sorrow, he appreciates beauty in the
mist that has fallen on the grey surroundings and changed their color to
silver.
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