Patrick Kavanagh

November Night

November striking without mercy.
Sleet squalls
Fired from a lampless sky
A cat calls
Mournfully to no listening lover
And I
Homeless beneath a bush take cover
From Death's sky.

This is November and this night
Shakes free
Apple and leaf and the last glory
From every tree
I might have known long ago
Her name
The Woman of eternal summer who
From the South came.
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