Fall home décor, Halloween decorations, trips to the apple orchard and Pumpkin Spice Everything tell a tale of a society enamored with this hushed season. This quieting down of things the shifting colors and brisk temperatures, the crisp fall wind seems to have fully captivated us and permeated our economy. John Keats’ 1820 poem ‘To Autumn” is a romantic look back at the reverence for a hauntingly beautiful season that guides us slowly into winter. The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft Īnd gathering swallows twitter in the skies.” Hedge-crickets sing and now with treble soft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies Īnd full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,Īnd touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,. Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Until they think warm days will never cease,įor Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells… With a sweet kernel to set budding more,Īnd still more, later flowers for the bees, To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,Īnd fill all fruit with ripeness to the core With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run
#Autumn blaze maple leaves turning red early how to#
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,Ĭonspiring with him how to load and bless
0 kommentar(er)
