Saturday, November 2, 2013

A POEM FOR NOVEMBER





 
NOVEMBER COMES


November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.

With night coming early,
And dawn coming late,
And ice in the bucket
And frost by the gate.

The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring.

by Clyde Watson

4 comments:

  1. Beautiful poem, it describes the wonders of Autumn perfectly !
    ~Jo

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi! :) I seem to remember commenting on this poem. Was that on another blog of yours? I am a little confused.
    Hugs!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, Mona. You are not dreaming. It was the only post from my old blog for this month, so I just copied it over here. I hope you will become a follower.

      Delete

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