I have wandered through countless glens
Of tree and fields of grass;
But gazing through my mem’ry’s lens,
Choose here my time to pass.
Speak! Where else can to this compare?
My loft in star-filled day
And mint grass; where birds take to air
O’er season’s watery way.
Yet come and gone, whence passed the night
Lit by steaming embers;
The rain! The rain—has drowned her sight
Veiled by cold Novembers.
Now, by the dawn this dusk will pass,
And diamonds fill the sky;
But she’s now wise, my lovely lass,
As storm-wizened as I.
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Submission Name: November Rain
