Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NOVEMBER, by EDMUND PALMER CLARKE



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NOVEMBER, by            
First Line: Now morning points the day when yellow leaves
Last Line: Care we for snow?
Subject(s): Autumn; Morning; Night; November; Seasons; Fall; Bedtime


Now morning points the day when yellow leaves
That yesterday were banners in the sun
Their autumn roadside carpet have begun;
And through its golden pattern the wind weaves
A mountain snow.

Here on these ancient hills time does not haste,
Though April's greens are changed to Autumn's gold
Which now November spends with wind and cold --
With wind and cold lays Summer's beauty waste --
Hides it with snow.

Of nights the Hunter's Moon climbs Copple Crown,
And venison is cooking on the stove.
Who cares how fast, or slow, up here, months move?
The cider's poured, and Autumn toast we'll down --
Care we for snow?





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