Monday, August 6, 2007

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 honey’d 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.

KEATS




3 comments:

Enemy of the Republic said...

You have amazing taste in writers.

Rob said...

hey you, thanks, and you have amazing writing skills, love your posts!!!!!!!! dearest enemy , :)

Nashira said...

That's really a lovely poem. Keats is one of my favourite poets. :)