Home / Fiction / Classic Fiction / November Night

November Night

The wind goes keening through the dark,
Disconsolate for what is lost—
The rose, the leaf, the lyric stream
Now songless under ice and frost.

The moon, behind a sable film
Of cloud, this night looks doubly pale,
A widow who has hid her face
Behind a mourning veil.

The Saturday Evening Post, November 21, 1959

Read More: