November / Maurice Thompson

November

A hint of slumber in the wind,
    A dreamful stir of blades and stalks,
As tenderly the twilight flows
    Down all my garden walks.

My robes of work are thrown aside,
    The odor of the grass is sweet;
The pleasure of a day well spent
    Bathes me from head to feet.

Calmly I wait the dreary change,—
    The season cutting sharp and sheer
Through the wan bowers of death that fringe
    The border of the year.

And while I muse, the fated earth
    Into a colder current dips,—
Feels winter's scourge with summer's kiss
    Still warm upon her lips.

~~ 

Maurice Thompson (1844-1901)
from Poems, 1892

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Maurice Thompson biography

Carlos Honda, Suzuka Flower Park, November 2013. CC BY 3.0, Wikimedia Commons.