No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--
No road--no street--
No "t'other side the way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--
No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!
No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!
The first week of November comes to a close tonight and before that happens, it's high time for me to share Thomas Hood's
poem (which is posted directly above) about this month, which has been something I've
done in bygone years when writing about November.
Because it's usually true that there are no flowers in November or if there are they can be few and far between, at least in
my rooftop garden where a lone flower is blooming on my
Anemone (as seen in the image below)...
... where she is posing with two of my pumpkins (a
Fairytale as well as a "standard" variety).
