November Song
He is training his colt,
The man in the Moon.
I can see where the hooves have beaten down
A clear round ring.
Can it be this thing
Forbodes rainfall soon?
Now I must hurry away for the brown
Leaves fall from November's tragic trees,
And love that once shouted goes whispering
Of fearful mysteries.
There shall be rain
Soon on the naked fields.
Yet shall the Spartans fight again,
Here be their shields.
And Love shall come shouting in
The meadows once more.
But to morrow - a mortal sin!
The rain will pour.
-Patrick Kavanagh
Copyright © Estate of Katherine Kavanagh
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