Dull the days of dark November,
Nature dying all around,
All the leaves of trees and flowers
Now have fallen to the ground.
All our joys must now be indoors,
Round the cheerful fire bright,
Shutting out the dark of winter
With mere artificial light.
Let us pity those amongst us
Who have not a friend to love,
And perhaps have lost the friendship
Of the Friend Who reigns above.
No, this friendship never dieth,
E’entho’ dark the days may be,
Still the voice of pity calleth
Homeless, friendless, come to Me.
T. R. Robinson
Craigs National School