Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
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Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
 
To November
By Charles Lloyd (1775–1839)
 
DISMAL 1 November! me it soothes to view,
  At parting day, the scanty foliage fall
  From the wet fruit-tree; or the gray stone-wall,
Whose cold films glisten with unwholesome dew;
To watch the yellow mists from the dank earth        5
  Enfold the neighboring copse; while, as they pass,
  The silent rain-drops bend the long rank grass,
Which wraps some blossom’s unmaturéd birth.
And through my cot’s lone lattice, glimmering gray,
  The damp, chill evenings have a charm for me,        10
  Dismal November! for strange vacancy
Summoneth then my very heart away!
  Till from mist-hidden spire comes the slow knell,
  And says, that in the still air Death doth dwell!
 
Note 1. “Nugæ Canoræ. Poems by Charles Lloyd, Author of ‘Edmund Oliver,’ ‘Isabel,’ and translator of Alfieri.” [back]
 
 
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