November Thoughts

NOVEMBER THOUGHTS. Where are now the dreaming flowers, Which of old were wont to lie, Looking upwards at the hours In the pale blue sky? Where's the once red regal rose? And the lily, love-enchanted? And the pansies, which arose Like a thought earth-planted? Some are wither'd—some are dead Others now have no perfume; This doth hang its sullen head, That hath lost its bloom. Passions, such as nourish strife In our blood, and quick decay, Hang upon the flower's life, Till it fades away. Anon.