November

He has hanged himself – the Sun.
He dangles
A scarecrow in thin air.

He is dead for love – the Sun:
He who forest tangles
Wooed all things fair.

That great lover – the Sun,
Now spangles
The wood with blood-stains.

He has hanged himself- the Sun.
How thin he dangles
In these gray rains!


From F W Harvey: Selected Poems (Douglas McLean Publishing, 2011), © The Estate of F W Harvey 2011, used by permission of the F W Harvey Society for the Estate of the author, and the publishers. Recording © The Estate of F W Harvey 2011, used by permission of Douglas McLean Publishing and the BBC.

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