November

  Our evanescent northern summer
  parodies winter in the south;
  it's like a vanishing newcomer --
  but here we must control our mouth.
  The sky breathed autumn, time was flowing,
  and good old sun more seldom glowing;
  the days grew shorter, in the glade
  with mournful sound the secret shade
  was stripped away, and mists encroaching
  lay on the fields; in caravan
  the clamorous honking geese began
  their southward flight: one saw approaching
  the season which is such a bore --
  November stood outside the door.

Fra Onegin,dikt av A.S.Puskin