In
case you hadn't noticed, it's November. Time for some observations by
poets and writers on what November means to them.
- No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November! Thomas Hood
- November: The eleventh twelfth of a weariness. Ambrose Bierce
- 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. Clyde Watson
- The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of. The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value to the bounty of July. Henry David Thoreau
- There is wind where the rose was, Cold rain where sweet grass was, And clouds like sheep Stream o'er the steep Grey skies where the lark was. Walter de la Mare
- So dull and dark are the November days. The lazy mist high up the evening curled, And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze; The place we occupy seems all the world. John Clare
- November always seemed to me the Norway of the year. Emily Dickinson
- It's hard to hold a candle In the cold November rain. Guns N' Roses, November Rain
- November's sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear. Sir Walter Scott
- Dull November brings the blast, Then the leaves are whirling fast. Coleridge
 |
Browse other topics I've covered in this blog - HERE.
Like my Facebook page for news of Topical Ten posts posts on my writing blog, a weekly writing quote and news of upcoming publications |
No comments:
Post a Comment