19-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Sunday, November 1, 1914:
Chill winders are howling at us now,
And days are growing murky.
The weeks sweep on onto the doom,
Of the saddened sorrowful turkey.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Is something wrong? The poem this month seems gloomier than most. You’ve never looked forward to the coming of winter, but other years you also could see that there were also a few upsides to November.
Here are the November poems from previous years:
November now is here again
Upon her scenes we’ll linger
Thanksgiving comes e’er she has gone
We count the days upon our fingers.
November brings us many things
And among them is Thanksgiving
The first of the snow
The winds that blow
And all that makes life worthwhile.
November, hastening before the fool steps of winter,
Brings back the stark realities of life.
It is not all the cup of brimming pleasure.
That crowns the triumph of a common strife.
Grandma began every month with a poem. For more details see this post: