November

Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun!

One mellow smile through the soft vapory air,

Ere, o’er the frozen earth, the loud winds run,

Or snows are sifted o’er the meadows bare.

And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,

One smile on the brown hills and naked trees,

Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze,

Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee

And man delight to linger in thy ray.

Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,

The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,

Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear

The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.

~ William Cullen Bryant