Explore "A November Sketch" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ The hoar-frost hisses 'neath the feet, / And the worm-fence's straggling length, / Smote by the morning's slanted strength, / Sparkles one rib of virgin sleet.
/ To withered fields the crisp breeze talks, / And silently and sadly lifts / The bronz'd leaves from the beech and drifts / Them wadded down the woodland walks.