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In November

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  • Sam
    In November The leafless forests slowly yield To the thick-driving snow. A little while And night shall darken down. In shouting file The woodmen s carts go by
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 1, 2011
      In November

      The leafless forests slowly yield

      To the thick-driving snow. A little while

      And night shall darken down. In shouting file

      The woodmen's carts go by me homeward-wheeled,

      Past the thin fading stubbles, half concealed,

      Now golden-gray, sowed softly through with snow,

      Where the last ploughman follows still his row,

      Turning black furrows through the whitening field.

      Far off the village lamps begin to gleam,

      Fast drives the snow, and no man comes this way;

      The hills grow wintry white, and bleak winds moan

      About the naked uplands. I alone

      Am neither sad, nor shelterless, nor gray,

      Wrapped round with thought, content to watch and dream.

      Archibald Lampman



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