Classic Poem

NOVEMBER

I SAW a little maid with pattering feet
Who ran to me with open arms and cried
" Father!" and in my heart there swelled a tide
So strong, so deep, and oh so wonder-sweet!
I woke, and heard the long slow billows beat
In ominous thunder on the shallow shore,
And gust on gust the misty North-wind roar,
Where surge and shingle undistinguished meet.

I saw thee, little maid, for thou wast here;
The sun was on thy hair, and in thy hand
Daisies — and oh the smile! Sullen, forlorn
The leaden morning shimmers on the sand —
O little laughing maid, God bless thee, dear,
Thou ghost of one who never has been born.