Poems (Linn)/November
For works with similar titles, see November.
NOVEMBER.
LUSH summer had her lavish treasure hurledOn grove, and glade, and garden all abloom;When by the roadside—prophecy of doom—The banner of the golden-rod unfurled.Then suddenly we saw that haze was curledAbout the hills; first missed the song and boomOf bird and bee, and poppies' faint perfume;Expectant and a-listening seemed the world.Then here and there, a yellow leaf behold;The woodbine dropped a ruby on the sod;Sumach and maple burnt to red and gold;While purple asters offered praise to God;Now on a world of fallen leaves and brown,The bleak November rains are pelting down.