Famous Nature Poem

To Autumn By John Keats

John Keats was a British Romantic Poem who only lived 25 short years, from 1795-1821. "To Autumn" is the final work in a group of poems that is referred to as Keats' 1819 Odes. He was inspired to write this poem after going on a walk on an autumn evening near Winchester. He wrote it on September 19, 1819, and it was published in 1820, a little more than a year before he succumbed to tuberculosis. The poem shows the progression through the autumn season, from fruitfulness, to labor, and ultimately to its decline. It also has a strong sense of imagery.

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To Autumn

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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-eves 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'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?   Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may findThee sitting careless on a granary floor,   Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,   Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook      Spares the next swath and all its twined 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 barred 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 red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;      And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

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  • by Sahithi, Chennai
  • 3 years ago

It's an awesome poem!!
I really love it!!!

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