Poem of the Day Project: from “To Autumn by John Keats”

I know we are finally celebrating spring, and don’t want to think about the fact that it will one day leave, but this is actually a wonderfully evocative description of our current season.

III

 

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast they music too, w–

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 red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

 

He’s holding his hand like this in almost all of the portraits I could find, this one was painted by Joseph Severn

 

(Disclaimer: I’m basing my poem choices on those I understand to be in the public domain. If I’ve made a mistake – which is very possible – and you own the copyright to a poem I have posted please e-mail me at igetabitobsessive@gmail.com and I will take the post down immediately.)

 

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