NOVEMBER.
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Till through the air's long labyrinthine walks
To warmer climes they take their circling way.
To warmer climes they take their circling way.
The sun sinks down; curtains of mist arise
From murky tarn and sluggish-bosomed pool;
Dull fogs and vapors, hide the gorgeous skies,
And ocean breezes blow in fresh and cool.
From murky tarn and sluggish-bosomed pool;
Dull fogs and vapors, hide the gorgeous skies,
And ocean breezes blow in fresh and cool.
NOVEMBER.
The fallen leaves, wet with the autumn rain,
Strew thickly all the lonely forest aisles;
The slant gold sunshine falls as if it fain
Would warm the earth to summer with its smiles.
Adown the cold, bleak hills the north wind sweeps,
Fresh from the regions of perpetual snow,
Born in the chill zone where stern Winter keeps
His gates all locked against the summer's glow.
Strew thickly all the lonely forest aisles;
The slant gold sunshine falls as if it fain
Would warm the earth to summer with its smiles.
Adown the cold, bleak hills the north wind sweeps,
Fresh from the regions of perpetual snow,
Born in the chill zone where stern Winter keeps
His gates all locked against the summer's glow.
The gliding brook has hushed its soothing song,
And all the pasture rills are chilled to rest;
The mighty river, as it creeps along,
Bears up a coat of armor on its breast;
The trees, like bony skeletons, uplift
Their naked arms against the cold blue sky,
And at their feet their cast leaves whirl and drift,
And hide away, like lost brown birds, to die.
And all the pasture rills are chilled to rest;
The mighty river, as it creeps along,
Bears up a coat of armor on its breast;
The trees, like bony skeletons, uplift
Their naked arms against the cold blue sky,
And at their feet their cast leaves whirl and drift,
And hide away, like lost brown birds, to die.
A drear, belated robin skims across
The barren heath; a squirrel, on the wall,
The barren heath; a squirrel, on the wall,
