The branches of the trees are bare.
The smell of burning leaves is in the air.
November twilight steals across my heart.
At five o’clock the streets are dark,
across the empty bandstand in the park.
November twilight softly falls again.
So still that you could hear a voice
if one were calling.
So quiet that you could hear a tear
if one were falling.
And April’s laughter steals once more
across the dark pavilion of my heart
And then I miss you most,
miss you with the ache of long lost things,
of sunburnt hours and garden swings,
When life was beautiful
and love was young and gay
November twilight must you stay?