A Night in November
Thomas Hardy


I marked when the weather changed,
And the panes began to quake,
And the winds rose up and ranged,
That night lying half-awake.

Dead leaves blew into my room,
And alighted upon my bed,
And a tree declared to the gloom
Its sorrow that they were shed.

One leaf of them touched my hand,
And I thought that it was you
There stood as you used to stand
And saying at last you knew!