The Cold November Gale

Oh how I've dreamt, I dreamt, I dreamt. 

How I wept, I wept, I wept. 

Counted the blades of grasses passed

In the month of wounded steps

I gleaned, I gleaned, I gleaned

I pressed, I pressed, I pressed. 

Breaking the verdant fragrant greens

On warmer days that I never missed 

It pales, it pales, it pales,

In the cold November gale

In the space that was never meant to be,

On the path where the heart surrendered

Oh, hell of hells, —my hell 

Dragging Decembers shelled

The pranging and banging 

Where the conscience left hanging 

Over footsteps that ever dwelt.