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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NOVEMBER, by                    
First Line: The year returns, his armies in the air
Last Line: Wounded, unconquerable, and alone.
Subject(s): Autumn; November; Seasons; Fall


The year returns, his armies in the air,
Come from the tundras, shadowing this place
Of dunes, a ruined tower, and cliffs that face
The swift gray myriads moving everywhere;
Dune, tower and cliff, the bones of earth that dare
The meshes of the winter's windy seine
That combs the sea below, and whips the pane
With ropes of rain,
And whistles through the withered grass to tear
The beauty from the world and leave her bare.

The earth's wings rustle like a golden moth
Trembling to some far imminence of doom.
The northwind calls to life, "Come home, come home",
And now a leaf, and now a seed flies south.
The darkened ocean weeps with driven froth
Her azure prime. The gray sky mourns the sun.
Till on a swift blast of the season's wrath
The soul mounts and is gone.
Dune, tower and cliff stand grim into the north
And the snow eagles of the void swoop down.

The empty earth forgets the fading moan
Of life, like music born to dying ears.
"You too are falling beauties on the years",
The northwind croons to water and to stone.
Then through the whirls of dust, the weary drone
Of waves, and blown snow from the freezing spheres,
The last gull wheels and screams. God on his throne
Trembles and hears
The thunder of a Titan, chained and fierce,
Wounded, unconquerable, and alone.





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