Hail, soft November, though thy pale Sad smile rebuke the words that hail Thy sorrow with no sorrowing words Or gratulate thy grief with song Less bitter than the winds that wrong Thy withering woodlands, where the birds Keep hardly heart to sing or see How fair thy faint wan face may be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 15 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN DEATH THE LEVELLER, FR. THE CONTENTION OF AJAX AND ULYSSES by JAMES SHIRLEY PSALM 89 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE LAST NIGHT by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE LORDS' MASQUE: FIRST DANCE by THOMAS CAMPION BLANK MISGIVINGS OF A CREATURE MOVING ABOUT IN WORLDS NOT REALIZED: 2 by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |