November Evenings! Damp and still They used to cloak Leckhampton hill, And lie down close on the grey plain, And dim the dripping window-pane, And send queer winds like Harlequins That seized our elms for violins And struck a note so sharp and low Even a child could feel the woe. Now fire chased shadow round the room; Tables and chairs grew vast in gloom: We crept about like mice, while Nurse Sat mending, solemn as a hearse, And even our unlearned eyes Half closed with choking memories. Is it the mist or the dead leaves, Or the dead men -- November eves? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POPPY-LAND EXPRESS by EDGAR WADE ABBOT THE DANCERS by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY REBEL MOTHER'S LULLABY by SHANE LESLIE BEAUTIFUL MEALS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE EPIGRAM: PERJURY by ROBERT NUGENT SONNET: 110 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SONNET: 71 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |