[THE RIGHT WAY]
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight, for the children of men.
—Alice Cary.
[NOVEMBER]
he leaves are fading and falling,
The winds are rough and wild,
The birds have ceased their calling,
But let me tell you, my child,
Though day by day, as it closes,
Doth darker and colder grow,
The roots of the bright red roses
Will keep alive in the snow.
And when the winter is over,
The boughs will get new leaves,
The quail come back to the clover,
And the swallow back to the eaves.