The Mist Does Drape The Distant Hill

The mist does drape the distant hill And grips the bleak and ghostly skies, With silence for the morning still Across the field and meadow lies. For clinging to the darkness there A cloak is cast upon the view, Behind the trees so stark and bare The sun is slowly breaking through. The air is chill upon this day November now begins to bite, The swallows too long flown away That once did bring me such delight. The path ahead is so unclear As features now are lost to me, For all that I once held so dear Lies hidden in the mist I see. I walk across the lowly field Where frost has settled on the grass, And pray the spring again would yield Its warmth to melt this frozen glass. So once again the stream could flow Across the rich and emerald land, Now vieled in white and thus could show The hill within the distance stand.