Hail, soft November, though thy pale Sad smile rebuke the words that hail Thy sorrow with no sorrowing words Or gratulate thy grief with song Less bitter than the winds that wrong Thy withering woodlands, where the birds Keep hardly heart to sing or see How fair thy faint wan face may be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLUE AND THE GRAY by FRANCIS MILES FINCH SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND by THOMAS MOORE THE CHILD ALONE: 1. THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SONG OF MYSELF by WALT WHITMAN ENDURANCE by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN THE BALLAD OF ORISKANY by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER ON THE BACKWARDNESS OF THE SPRING 1771 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |