richard mitchley - in novemberby archibald lampman lyrics
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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+grey, 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 wintery white, and bleak winds moan
about the naked uplands. i alone
am nеither sad, nor shelterlеss, nor grey
wrapped round with thought, content to watch and dream
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