November

By Esther M. Clark

Summer was made for the wandering heart,
The changing beauty and wonderment
In the long, gray stretches of open road
With only the sky for a wayside tent.
Meadowlarks singing beyond the hedge,
Grass with the shimmer of dew still wet;
A noon day rest by the water’s edge
Summer was marvelous sweet; and yet:

November days and a bright wood fire;
A hearth and a home and the Heart’s Desire.

Summer was kind to the wayfaring one,
Luring and beckoning, on and on,
Through new and untraveled, unweary ways
From dawn till night and from night till dawn.
Orchard and field in a veil of rain,
Blossoming beauty on every bough;
What more could the heart of a man contain?
Summer was wondrously kind; but now:

November nights and the open fire;
A hearth and a home and the Heart’s Desire.