No sun–no moon!
No morn–no noon!
No dawn–no dusk–no proper time of day–
No sky–no earthly view–
No distance looking blue–
No road–no street–no “t’other side this way”–
No end to any Row–
No indications where the Crescents go–
No top to any steeple–
No recognitions of familiar people–
No courtesies for showing ’em–
No knowing ’em!
No traveling at all–no locomotion–
No inkling of the way–no notion–
“No go” by land or ocean–
No mail–no post–
No news from any foreign coast–
No Park, no Ring, no afternoon gentility–
No company–no nobility–
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member–
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds–
November!
By Thomas Hood ( 1799~1845)
Nice post
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Thanks again Sunil x
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Lovely poem Joey x
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Ah, a wonderfully apt choice! That poem, ‘November’ by Thomas Hood, is a perfectly bleak and brilliant evocation of the month’s sensory deprivation. The relentless ‘No’ paints such a vivid picture of stillness and obscurity.
Such a beautiful read to start my day… thanks Joey❣️🦋
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You are very welcome, Aparna x
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