Tangled in Stars

Poems by
Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

NOVEMBER AND DECEMBER



November and December, and again
    November and December as before;
    Dead season on dead season, o’er and o’er,
Till leaflessness becomes most leafless. Then
Naught for the lips, except the sad Amen,
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    Naught for the eyes, except the darkened door,
    And for this pleasant House of Leaves no more
The summer breezes with their light refrain.

November and December—ah, I hear
    Like unto heavy, sobbing winds, the old

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        Novembers and Decembers mourn aloud.
No red leaf lights the darkness of the year;
    But only fire that grips the heart of cold,
        And stars that burn behind a world of cloud. [Page 44]