November Sunshine
The warm year fled ere thy sense hath
caught her :1
Only the wind in a misty plain,2
And the beautiful brief November sunshine3
Gleaming on levels of pale grey water4
And roadways wet with November rain.5
In the rank red groves despoiled and dreary,6
A wan woman peers thro’ the shadows ahead,7
Seeming to seek in the sunset beyond them,8
With tear-dimmed eyes grown wretched and weary,9
The wraith of a golden hope, long dead.10
Dead hope ! Dost thou its sweet remember—11
Thou too, with a sigh that is spent in vain ;12
And thy heart like a Wanderer pale and lonely13
Watching the brief bright sun of November14
Sink, and the slow sweet Autumn wane ?15