Ode To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,---
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

by John Keats

Comments (17)

Poem of fullness....the blossoming of mind
It is the best chance to enjoy the autumn........10+++++++++++
'Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, - -'..............Beautiful lines!
I will praise you, Lord, with all my heart. I will tell all the miracles you have done. - ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭9: 1-2‬ ‭ICB‬‬ http: //bible.com/1359/psa.9.1-2.icbI will praise you, Lord, with all my heart. I will tell all the miracles you have done. - ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭9: 1-2‬ ‭ICB‬‬ http: //bible.com/1359/psa.9.1-2.icb
I had always thought Autumn was personified as a women. The poem says, “Who hath not seen thee...” and my wife pictures a man at the winnowing, furrow, gleaning and cider-press. What do you picture?
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