Page:Negro poets and their poems (IA negropoetstheirp00kerl).pdf/282

260 November The leaves are sere, The woods are drear, The breeze, that erst so merrily did play, Naught giveth save a melancholy lay; Yet life’s great lessons do not fail E’en in November’s gale. December List! List! the sleigh bells peal across the snow; The frost’s sharp arrows touch the earth and lo! How diamond-bright the stars do scintillate When Night hath lit her lamps to Heaven’s gate. To the dim forest’s cloistered arches go, And seek the holly and the mistletoe; For soon the bells of Christmas-tide will ring To hail the Heavenly King! —H. Cordelia Ray.

Come, let us plant a tree today— Forsake your book, forsake your play, Bring out the spade and hie away While April breezes blow. Your life is young, and it should be As full of vigor as this tree, As fair, as upright and as free, While April breezes blow. Come, let us plant a tree to stand Both fair and useful in the land, Supremely tall and nobly grand A strong and trusty oak.