November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.
With night coming early,
And dawn coming late,
And ice in the bucket
And frost by the gate.
The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring.
- Elizabeth Coatsworth
Vincent Van Gogh by John Peter Russell, 1886
via Veranda
Central Park by me via instagram.
Paris by Vicki Archer
Top Image: The New Yorker, November 5, 1966 by Abe Birnbaum
All other images via tumblr.