Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

November

Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze.

A few incisive mornings,
A few ascetic eyes, --
Gone Mr. Bryant's golden-rod,
And Mr. Thomson's sheaves.

Still is the bustle in the brook,
Sealed are the spicy valves;
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The eyes of many elves.

Perhaps a squirrel may remain,
My sentiments to share.
Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind,
Thy windy will to bear!

1. The Farthest Thunder That I Heard
2. Upon the Gallows Hung a Wretch
3. The Lost Thought
4. Reticence
5. With Flowers (If recollecting were forgetting)

Edward Thomas November ("NOVEMBER'S days are thirty")

Print

1677 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version