How has November won More loveliness With opal mist and sun Than spring can boast? The village houses all Wear aureoles. Their smoke is pale and tall As Abel's was. The winds adoringly On tiptoe pause, Nor grudge the branches free Slow gift of leaves. And on the air one note Clear, clear, and sad, From the unmated throat Of some lone bird. O earth, that doth confess In beauty God, How calm the happiness, How close the tears! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMFORT [TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE] by ROBERT HERRICK MEN AND BOYS by KARL THEODORE KORNER AVE ATQUE VALE; IN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE BAKER'S VAN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HEBREW MELODY by MRS. JAMES GORDEN BROOKS SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 8 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |