John Keats - The human seasons
April 26th 2008 05:05
Poetry of John Keats (1795-1821)
The Human Seasons
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness--to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
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