....Twitter in the skies .

To Autumn

by John Keats 1795-1821

Mist on a Lake in Germany

 SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!

     Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

 Conspiring with him how to load and bless

     With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

Figs at Holland Park

 To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

     And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

         To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

   

St. Mary Pillsdown Manor

  With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

 And still more, later flowers for the bees,

 Until they think warm days will never cease,

     For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

 



Leaves in Holland Park

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

     Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

 Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

     Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

 

Leaves on the lawn outside Belvedere Restaurant and Orangery

 Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,

     Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

         Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;

 And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

     Steady thy laden head across a brook;

    

Leaves on the Kyoto Garden Path

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

         Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

 Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

     Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—

Tree at Holland Park

 While barred 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;

From the formal Garden Holland Park

 And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

     Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

     The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;

         And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.