November Poems
NOVEMBER by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow The Centaur, Sagittarius, am I,Born of Ixion’s and the cloud’s embrace;With sounding hoofs across the earth I fly,A steed Thessalian with a human face.Sharp winds the arrows are with which I chaseThe leaves, half dead already with affright;I shroud myself in gloom; and to the raceOf mortals bring nor comfort nor delight. *** A Calendar of Sonnets: November by Helen Hunt Jackson This is the treacherous month when autumn daysWith summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts.Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster liftsHer...
