European Elegies/Autumn (1)/November
16.NOVEMBER
The gloom of grey November
On field and copse is shed;
Life can no laugh remember
While the cold earth lies dead.
On field and copse is shed;
Life can no laugh remember
While the cold earth lies dead.
No more come robins calling
From branches by the door:
Only the sere leaf falling
From the pale sycamore.
From branches by the door:
Only the sere leaf falling
From the pale sycamore.
And the slow drops unceasing
Dripping from barren boughs,
Tears that for sorrow's easing
Fall on your last, dark house.
Dripping from barren boughs,
Tears that for sorrow's easing
Fall on your last, dark house.
From the Plattdeutsch of Fritz Husmann.