my favourite time of year. lyrics from In November by Archibald Lampman
exploring the multiverses sound by sound and word by word
Story behind the song
loved this poem ever since i first read it in high school. free for educational use lol.
Lyrics
Author: Archibald Lampman
IN NOVEMBER.
The hills and leafless forests slowly yield
To the thick-driving snow. A little while
And night shall darken down. In shouting file
The woodmen's carts go by me homeward-wheeled,
Past the thin fading stubbles, half concealed,
Now golden-grey, sowed softly through with snow,
Where the last ploughman follows still his row,
Turning black furrows through the whitening field.
Far off the village lamps begin to gleam,
Fast drives the snow, and no man comes this way;
The hills grow wintery white, and bleak winds moan
About the naked uplands. I alone
Am neither sad, nor shelterless, nor grey,
Wrapped round with thought, content to watch and dream.
Music
Copyright 2013 Bradley Garfield Needham
All rights reserved.
