Saturday, June 21, 2014

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 it's 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 misfortune,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

~John Keats

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