November now is here,
With skies of leaden hue,
And gloomy days and drear,
And winds that pierce us through.
And on the hedge the rose,
With leaves of tender green,
No more in beauty grows,
And frost and snow are seen.
But still the Birds contrive,
By hardship unsubdued,
To keep themselves alive,
And keenly seek their food.
And thus they teach us still,
However dark the day,
"That where there is a Will
There always is a Way."
