November Evenings! Damp and still They used to cloak Leckhampton hill, And lie down close on the grey plain, And dim the dripping window-pane, And send queer winds like Harlequins That seized our elms for violins And struck a note so sharp and low Even a child could feel the woe. Now fire chased shadow round the room; Tables and chairs grew vast in gloom: We crept about like mice, while Nurse Sat mending, solemn as a hearse, And even our unlearned eyes Half closed with choking memories. Is it the mist or the dead leaves, Or the dead men -- November eves? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A MAN BY THE NAME OF BOLUS by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE BASE OF ALL METAPHYSICS by WALT WHITMAN WE ARE SEVEN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A TOUCH OF NATURE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH NAMELESS PAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A BLESSING FOR THE BLESSED by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA |