Monk's cowl with attached robe. Courtesy Garb the World.
October[]
Sad and sober
Monk October
Comes in russet habit clad;
Sore relenting,
Loud repenting –
What a merry time he's had!
How the rafter
Rang with Laughter
In the Sylvan woods of June!
Now his Maying
Turns to praying
And he chants a solemn tune.
Base deceiver!
He's no griever;
All his seeming sorrowing,
All his chanting
Is but canting:
Lift his cowl – behold the Spring!
See also[]
This poem is in the public domain