November by A.J. Rolfe

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      What a glory doth this world put on
      For him who with a fervent heart goes forth.

The waves of golden light spread in the East,
   Flooding the sky with glory; o'er the hills
The King of Day mounts slowly; and released
   From sleep, the world, refreshed from toils and ills,
Its round begins; fair Nature's lovely face
   Smiles on the glorious handiwork of God,
Teaching her willing votary to trace
   The Artist Hand in paths that few have trod.
The birds are caroling their joyous lay,
   The fragrance-breathing flowers lovingly
Send forth their grateful thanks; and far away
   The mountains lift their heads in ecstasy.
All Nature gladly shouts in one long strain
A long of love; and earth resounds again.

First published in The Queenslander, 12 November 1892;
and later in:
A Sheaf of Sonnets by A. J. Rolfe, 1892

Note: this poem in the eleventh in a sequence of poems that the author wrote about each month of the year.

Author reference sites: Austlit

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on November 12, 2011 8:04 AM.

Armistice: To His Dead Cobber from the Sentimental Bloke by C. J. Dennis was the previous entry in this blog.

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