 | Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne |  |
NOVEMBER.
Within the deep-blue eyes of Heaven a hazeOf saddened passion dims their tender light,
For that her fair queen-child, the Summer bright,
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The sullen Autumn lifts no voice of praise
To herald Winter's cold and cruel might,
But winds foreboding fill the desolate night,
And die at dawning down wild woodland ways:
The sovereign sun at noonday smileth cold,
As through a shroud he hath no power to part,
While huddled flocks crouch listless round their fold;
The mock-bird's dumb, no more with cheerful dart
Upsoars the lark through morning's quivering gold,
And dumb or dead, methinks, great Nature's heart!
| Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | |