Like a bacchanal troupe, October led
Her harlequin hours from rout to gayer rout,
Leaving their tattered robes and banners spread
On many a ravished hillside round about;
Wilder and shriller grew the songs they sang,
Until All Hallows’ bells at midnight rang.
Changed in a twinkling is each reveller wild
To humble penitent who kneels and prays,
As gray November, like an abbess mild,
Missal in hand, shepherds her nun-like days;
Wistful and wraith-like, as they disappear,
They light the vesper tapers of the year.
Featuring cover artwork by Andrea John.