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November

A tingling, misty marvel
  Blew hither in the night,
And now the little peach-trees
  Are clasped in frozen light. 

Upon the apple-branches
  An icy film is caught,
With trailing threads of gossamer
  In pearly patterns wrought. 

The autumn sun, in wonder,
  Is gayly peering through
This silver-tissued network
  Across the frosty blue. 

The weather-vane is fire-tipped,
  The honeysuckle shows
A dazzling icy splendor,
  And crystal is the rose.


~ Evaleen Stein

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