No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!— Thomas Hood
Scandalous November Poems quotations
If you cannot be a poet, be the poem.
The season for enjoying the fullness of life - partaking of the harvest, sharing the harvest with others, and reinvesting and saving portions of the harvest for yet another season of growth.
November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.
We ought, everyday, to hear a song, read a fine poem, and, if possible, to speak a few reasonable words.
I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.
Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh, Through the white and drifted snow.
Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up.
What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.
A picture is a poem without words.
Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows, and all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone. I already hear the dead thuds of logs below falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.
All in November's soaking mist We stand and prune the naked tree, While all our love and interest Seem quenched in the blue-nosed misery.
Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest triumph told.
The stripped and shapely Maple grieves The ghosts of her Departed leaves.
The ground is hard, As hard as stone. The year is old, The birds are flown.