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Show oo L I Walt Mason i NOVEMBER WINDS. November winds an- harshly brawling about mv Shack, the long night through; and In m bed I hear them squalling around the window and the flue. I hear them hammer at the sashes. I hear them spring ihe ancient wheese: "Stoke up your fire, shake down the ashes, or all the hanging plants will freeze1 November's Novem-ber's voice Is wild and raucous, the genial rest of life It kills, and all night long It seems to mock as. with hints of coming com-ing plumber's bills By day wo hear November shrieking, and hear tip well beneath our cross, although we know that autumn's sneaking, and winter comes, a total loss. By day we ha c our I tolls and troubles to occupy ovir divers 1 minds; we saw our wood and blow our bubbles, and give small heed to walUnK winds. But In the night, with dnrkness round us, and ghost steps creaking on the stair the wild winds ceem to hunr and hound us and fill our bosoms with despair. There's nothing speaks more poignunt sorrow than bleak November's voice at night and so we lie and wtnh the morrow would come and brin its helpful light. oo |