Explore "The Human Seasons" by John Keats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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 honied 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.