Ode to Autumn

keats - ode to autumn
Ode to Autumn
by John Keats

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 moss’d 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’erbrimm’d their clammy cells.

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-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-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 barrèd 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.

6 thoughts on “Ode to Autumn

  1. My dear brother – Thank you very much for these two poems. I enjoyed them both, very much, and will continue to do so. It’s true that focusing on what one has lost – i.e., in autumn, focusing on the spring and summer growing – brings melancholy. I find that melancholy is quite lovely at times. Sometimes I cry with that feeling, and that feels right. – But more, I cherish with every fiber of my being the nuances of each season. – How beautiful are, for instance, the bare bones of winter’s trees. – Again, thank you for sharing these poems (and pictures) about the Autumn. I am grateful.

    • Thank you, Mari. Here’s to all the nuances of Autumn ~ the earthy richness of harvest, the glory of color, brisk mornings, warm aromas, flannel-clad chores, lingering rains, so many more, but especially the lovely and wistful melancholy of saying goodbye.

  2. So many shades and nuances, completely agree. It seems you love autumn. Well, it saddens me bit since I hate winter even though have painted it here and there. Autumn is an overture of winter …

    • If I may tease you….then birth is an overture to death! : ) Embrace the beauty of the present moment! Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof! In honesty, I have too often dreaded the future, but somehow not with the seasons. I do love them all. But thank you for commenting and for accepting my tweaking you with good humor!

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