November.
Sic Transit.
The wild north wind is wailing o’er heath, and moor,
and brae,1
and brae,1
O’er the hill-side, o’er the hollows, its echoes die away ;2
The Storm-king shakes the forest, scatters red leaves
o’er the lea,3
o’er the lea,3
Lashes into foam the rivers, into frenzy chafes the sea.4
The white owl plains his dirges to the ivy-mantled
tower,5
tower,5
The golden bee is dreaming at home of honeyed flower ;6
The velvet-coated squirrel is wrapped in slumber deep,7
Within their winter cloister the brown-eyed dormice
sleep.8
sleep.8
The thick mist in the gloaming veils wood, and dale,
and plain,9
and plain,9
Silver rising from the river settling on the firs again ;10
Chrysanthemums are blooming in crimson and in gold,11
Last ihe of autumn’s beauty : thus is Time’s story
told !12
told !12
On Nature, all-exhausted, with her teeming harvest
deeds,13
deeds,13
When she garnered to her bosom the fruits of spring-
tide seeds ;14
tide seeds ;14
When she clasped her red-gold treasures exultant to
her breast,15
her breast,15
Falls repose—her well-earned guerdon. Falls a glorious
trance of rest !16
trance of rest !16