Poems (Hardy)/November rain
NOVEMBER RAIN
'T IS morning, dim with quiet rain;A cloud of blackbirds on the wing Sweep out of sight In rhythmic flight,And leave for proof that they can singA heart-stirred memory of the springReverberate within the brain,That rhymes it with November rain.
Tis morning, gray with quiet rain;A lark, from sight by earth-hues caught, Alternate feeds, And blithely leadsIn sweet response of song my thought,Until, I know not how, is wroughtAn unpremeditated strainThat rhymes it with November rain.