November Dusk by L.M. Montgomery
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November Dusk
By L.M. Montgomery
A weird and dreamy stillness falls upon
the purple breathless earth, the windless woods,
the wimpling rims of valley solitudes,
The wide gray stubble-fields, and fallows wan -
A quiet hush, as if, her heyday gone,
tired Nature folded weary hands for rest
across the faded vesture of her breast,
Knowing her wintry slumbers hasten on.
Far and away beyond the ocean’s rim
the dull-red sunset fades into the gray
Of somber wind-rent clounds, that marshal grim
around the closing portals of the day,
While from the margin of the tawny shore
Comes up the voice of waters evermore.
