November In Verse

I’ve always found November a dull month. The clocks have just gone back, heralding the onset of long, dark evenings, the weather usually starts to turn from autumnal to wintery, and everything seems to be on hold until December arrives, bringing the promise of Christmas and good times with family. Unlike the USA, who have Thanksgiving Day, for us it’s a kind of nothing month. I don’t want to sound down, as I’m not, but that’s the way I think of it. I wondered if I was alone in that so I did some research, particularly into poems about November, to see what others thought of this month.

I found a short poem which summed it up perfectly for me. Before I share it with you, take a look at this from Google:


I must admit I hadn’t realised that death was a criterion by which poets were judged! The Robin Williams movie has a lot to answer for!

The first poem I’ve chosen to share is by Thomas Hood, and is simply called November:

imageHe doesn’t really like this month either, does he! At least he has shown me that my feelings about November are nothing new: Hood lived from 1799 to 1845 so that poem is almost 200 years old. Encouraged by finding this I thought I’d expand on this theme, as it is fertile ground for some very descriptive (and dismal!) poetry. My apologies to those of you in the Southern Hemisphere, who no doubt are basking in sunshine and increasing temperatures and must be wondering what I’m on about: I guess your equivalent must be May, when autumn turns to winter for you.

Not being poetic myself, and feeling short of inspiration to recall any more poems about this month I returned to my main reference source, Google. If you do the same you’ll appreciate how much dreary doggerel I’ve spared you by not sharing them with you here! The great (?) McGonagall seems to have been particularly taken with bad news stories from this month, but I’m not going to waste our time on those. One poem that did strike me in both its beauty and brevity was this one:


With faint dry sound,

Like steps of passing ghosts,

The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees

And fall.

That is called November Night and is by a poet I’ll admit to not having heard of before. Let’s face it, if you’d heard the name Adelaide Crapsey you’d remember it! I rather like that little poem and didn’t just choose it so that I could mention the poet’s name, honest! I found this biography of her and it seems she lived a brief and tragic life. This poem was written when she was already aware of her own mortality, having been diagnosed with tuberculosis of the brain lining, and this makes it all the more poignant for me. The imagery of passing ghosts assumes extra significance when you know that she is one herself. In just 20 words she has captured perfectly the essence of November, as I believe it.

IMG_0497The weather here for the past few days has been dismal – very wet and windy – and my eye has frequently been caught by brown leaves blowing past my window and coming to rest on my small patio area, awaiting my appearance with a broom. But my practical nature takes over: if I brush them away they’ll only come back, and we have no garden waste collection here so putting them in a sack isn’t an option. So here they sit, and here they stay, for now.

(This post is an edited reworking of two posts previously written in 2014 and 2015 as part of my contributions to #NaBloPoMo. Current regular readers won’t have seen them so I thought them worth sharing again)

37 thoughts on “November In Verse

      • Jeepers Clive, a whole history of chanson and musiques written off in one swoop! I lived in France for a while many years ago. Like anywhere there’s all sorts. To be honest, I only remember Monsieur Novembre as a an actor

        Liked by 1 person

      • Sorry, it just isn’t to my taste! Apart from Je T’aime and Plastique Bertrand I’m hard pressed to remember any French music I’ve enjoyed since the days of Françoise Hardy! I just tried one of his songs, and it met my expectations! Thanks for the follow, I’ll return the compliment.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Oh, you brought back my northern remembrances, Clive. When we lived in upstate New York my least favorite months were November and March. November was dried up and brown…lost were October’s glories and only dry, curled leaves remained blown by frigid winds. Frost parched the grass and the sky was iron grey with heavy clouds. Syracuse is like Seattle very little sun, but snow instead of rain which also starts in November there. I can understand your poets disdain for November. I have to say that all changed here in North Carolina. We have long falls and the leaves are just hitting peak here now. Generally temperatures are in the 60s and even 70s day times and sunny, which really helps my mood! Cool at night, but I like that. No, no, no, more dreary Novembers for me!

    Liked by 2 people

    • A very poetic description of how it used to be for you, Jo! It sounds even worse than here! You certainly seem to have moved to a far better climate, and it sounds lovely. I’m sure your new home will enable you to continue that enjoyment into retirement for many years to come. Have a wonderful day 😊

      Liked by 1 person

  2. We have an equivalent poem in Denmark by Henrik Nordbrandt from 1986
    “The year have 16 months:
    November, December, January, February, March,
    May, June,July, August, September,
    October, November, November, November, November”

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Oh please keep going the both of you, this is keeping me entertained! 😂 I feel tthe same about November, love your poetry choices and I know Edinburgh too, I was once parked at some traffic lights outside the castle when the IRA decided to set off a bomb. Trouble was everyone thought it was the traditional firing of the cannon and paid it no mind!

    Liked by 2 people

    • Many thanks for your nomination, I’m very flattered! Sadly, you are very unlucky in your timing, as it is only a few days since I decided not to do any more awards and took the existing badges off my site! I’ve got some nominations going back years that I’ve never taken up, and it seemed wrong to leave them there. I’m very grateful, and hope I haven’t disappointed you.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I thought for one glorious moment you were going to share some of the magnificent bilge of McGonegal! Nice choices of poems and they certainly illustrate your point about November. My mother is quite peculiar about it. Says that people have a tendency to die in November. Which is not something I care to adhere to. Even when they do.

    Liked by 1 person

Please leave a reply, I'd like to know what you think

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.