From a look at John's ladies, it's back to his
view of the seasons on this sunny November day
in England.

I love the fitful gust that shakes
The casement all the day,
And from the glossy elm tree takes
The faded leaves away,
Twirling them by the window pane
With thousand others down the lane.

I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve,
The sparrow on the cottage rig,
Whose chirp would make believe
That Spring was just now flirting by,
In Summer's lap with flowers to lie.

I love to see the cottage smoke
Curl upwards through the trees,
The pigeons nestled round the cote
On November days like these;
The cock upon the dunghill crowing,
The mill sails on the heath a-going.

The feather from the raven's breast
Falls on the stubble lea,
The acorns near the old crow's nest
Drop pattering down the tree;
The grunting pigs, that wait for all,
Scramble and hurry where they fall.

1 comment:

Pilot Mom said...

What a wonderful visual! One can almost feel the chill on one's cheeks and smell the odor of smoke as it rises into the air! I feel as if I must put my hands in my pockets and pick up my step from a stroll to a brisk walk. :)