Sonnet XVI. November

Original Text: 
Poems by Hartley Coleridge (Leeds: F. E. Bingley, 1833): 16. D-10 2741 Fisher Rare Book Library. 2 vols., 2nd edn. (London: Moxon, 1851), I, 20.
1The mellow year is hasting to its close;
2The little birds have almost sung their last,
3Their small notes twitter in the dreary blast --
4That shrill-piped harbinger of early snows:
6Oft with the Morn's hoar chrystal quaintly glass'd,
7Hangs, a pale mourner for the summer past,
8And makes a little summer where it grows:
9In the chill sunbeam of the faint brief day
10The dusky waters shudder as they shine,
11The russet leaves obstruct the straggling way
12Of oozy brooks, which no deep banks define,
13And the gaunt woods, in ragged, scant array,
14Wrap their old limbs with sombre ivy twine.


5] Hartley Coleridge notes that "The Chinese, or monthly rose, so frequently seen clustering round the cottage-porch, both in the remotest vales and in the immediate outskirts of busy, smoky towns, is almost destitute of scent ..." (148). Back to Line
Publication Start Year: 
RPO poem Editors: 
Ian Lancashire
RPO Edition: 
RPO 1999.