Personification Poems
November Song
The evening had caught cold;
Its eyes were blurred.
It had a dripping nose
And its tongue was furred.
I sat ill a warm bar
After the day's work;
November snuffled outside,
Greasing the sidewalk.
But soon I had to go
Out into tile night
Where shadows prowled the alleys
Hiding from the light.
But light shone at the corner
Of the pavement where
A man had fallen over
Or been knocked down there.
His legs oil the slimed concrete
Were splayed out wide;
He had been propped against a lamp-post
His head lolled to one side.
A victim of crime or accident,
An image of-fear,
He remained quite motionless
As I drew near
Then a thin voice startled silence
From a doorway close by
Where all urchin hid from the wind:
'Spare a penny for the guy!'
I gave the boy some money
And hastened on.
A voice called, `Thank you guv’nor!'
And the words upon
The wincing air seemed strange
So hoarse and deep –
As if the guy had spoken
In his restless sleep.
A Thunder-storm.
The wind begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low, -
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.
The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.
The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow;
The lightning showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.
The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands
That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father's house,
Just quartering a tree.
Emily Dickinson