Saturday, January 28, 2017

The Poet: John Keats, "The Human Seasons"

"The Human Seasons"

"Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
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."

~ John Keats,  (1795–1821) 

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