"Written In November"

Autumn, I love thy parting look to view
In cold November's day, so bleak and bare,
When, thy life's dwindled thread worn nearly thro',
With ling'ring, pott'ring pace, and head bleach'd bare,
Thou, like an old man, bidd'st the world adieu.
I love thee well: and often, when a child,
Have roam'd the bare brown heath a flower to find;
And in the moss-clad vale, and wood-bank wild
Have cropt the little bell-flowers, pearly blue,
That trembling peep the shelt'ring bush behind.
When winnowing north-winds cold and bleaky blew,
How have I joy'd, with dithering hands, to find,
Each fading flower; and still how sweet the blast,
Would bleak November's hour restore the joy that's past.


I couldn't resist quoting another poem by the English poet John Clare, whose words I also used in yesterday's blip.  So apt for today's photo, I thought.  I don't know what this pale pink wildflower is - it was growing beside the main road near my home, and looks as if it's nearly finished its blooming now as the autumn weather turns cooler and the days get shorter.  This is always a difficult time of year for me, as I find the longer hours of darkness and grey low-ceiling weather really hard to cope with.