Beck and call
The sunlight droops into my drawing room
in a dream of day;
I wonder what it might bring
But my hopes are held high and gay.
For it is the sweet November dream
Where the trees have no grief or fear
And the eyes are all in golden gleam
And the air is gentle and the winter's near.
The year is bidding its final adieu
with the things that were
It pleasingly says;
And the nights will come early now
And the dawn drowsily late.
So let us all move into this season
Though everyone has a different reason
For here comes this mesmerising fall
And I love nothing more, but simply love it all.