November
The old year’s withered face is here again,
The twilight look, the look of reverie,
The backward gazing eyes that seem to see
The full-leaved robin-haunted June remain
Through devastating wind and ruinous rain;
A form that moves a little wearily,
As one who treads the path of memory
Beneath a long year’s load of stress and stain.
Good-night! good-night! the dews are thick and damp,
Yet still she babbles on, as loath to go,
Of apple-buds and blooms that used to be,
Till Indian Summer brings the bedside lamp,
And underneath a covering of snow
She dreams again of April ecstasy.
~~
Ethelwyn Wetherald (1857-1940)
from Tangled in Stars: Poems, 1902
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
Ethelwyn Wetherald biography
~~
Ethelwyn Wetherald (1857-1940)
from Tangled in Stars: Poems, 1902
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
Ethelwyn Wetherald biography
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