539. The Human Seasons

John Keats (1795—1821)

  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.