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.
`upon first reading this poem, i immeadiately thought "hmmm figures!" the poem is obviously directed to man but it can be addressed to humanity. it's basically about the life process that we all experience. each season represents a time period of our lives. the spring, childhood. the summer, young, youthfulness as in our 20s-40s, the autumn life there after where we have reached that peak of happiness with our lives and finally winter when death is bestowed upon us. it's pretty interesting to read the poem and think about the dynamics of it considering John Keats only lived to 25, so this wasn't a relative poem. hmmmm
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