A November Wood-walk Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBBA CDDDC EFFFE GHHHG IJJJI KFLFK MNMNM OPPOOP| Dead leaves are deep in all our forest walks | A |
| Their brightest tints not all extinguished yet | B |
| Shine redly glimmering through the dewy wet | B |
| And whereso'er thy musing foot is set | B |
| The fragrant cool wort lifts its emerald stalks | A |
| - | |
| How kindly nature wraps secure and warm | C |
| In the fallen mantle of her summer pride | D |
| These lovely tender things that peep and hide | D |
| Whom unawares thy curious eye hath spied | D |
| For the long night of winter's frost and storm | C |
| - | |
| Still keeps the deer berry its vivid green | E |
| Set in its glowing calyx like a gem | F |
| While hung above a marvellous diadem | F |
| Of tawny gold the bittersweet's gray stem | F |
| Strung with its globes of murky flame is seen | E |
| - | |
| The foot sinks ankle deep in velvet moss | G |
| The shroud of some dead giant of his race | H |
| Dun gold and green and brown thick interlace | H |
| Their tiny exquisite leaves in cunning trace | H |
| Weaving their beaded filaments across | G |
| - | |
| Here mayest thou lie and looking up behold | I |
| Far up the stately trees sway to and fro | J |
| In the deep sunny air with motion slow | J |
| And whispering to each other weird and low | J |
| The secrets of the haunted cloud land old | I |
| - | |
| Heaven seems not half so far as in the town | K |
| Looking through smoke and dust and tears to gam | F |
| Some heavenly comfort for thy human pain | L |
| Heaven seems far off but here the dews and ram | F |
| Come like a benediction from the Father down | K |
| - | |
| Nor will He who forgets not any weed | M |
| That blooms its little life in forest shade | N |
| And dies when it hath cast its ripened seed | M |
| Forget the human creatures He has made | N |
| Frail as they are and full of infinite need | M |
| - | |
| Now like a sheaf of golden arrows fall | O |
| The last rays of the Indian Summer sun | P |
| And hark along the hollow hills they run | P |
| Invisible messengers the battle call | O |
| Of coming storms in pipings faint and small | O |
| They bring the pageant of the year is done | P |
Kate Seymour Maclean
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