A NIGHT IN NOVEMBER

I MARKED when the weather changed, And the panes began to quake, And the winds rose up and ranged, That night, lying half-awake.

Dead leaves blew into my room, And alighted upon my bed, And a tree declared to the gloom Its sorrow that they were shed.

One leaf of them touched my hand, And I thought that it was you There stood as you used to stand, And saying at last you knew!