October of the tawny crown,
Whose heavy-laden hands drop down
⁠Blessing, the bounties of thy breath
And mildness of thy mellowing might
Fill earth and heaven with love and light
⁠Too sweet for fear to dream of death
Or memory, while thy joy lives yet,
To know what joy would fain forget.

Hail, soft November, though thy pale
Sad smile rebuke the words that hail
⁠Thy sorrow with no sorrowing words
Or gratulate thy grief with song
Less bitter than the winds that wrong
⁠Thy withering woodlands, where the birds
Keep hardly heart to sing or see
How fair thy faint wan face may be.