Treasure Island

John Keats

(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821 / London, England)

Sonnet. The Human Seasons


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.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 23, 2010

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  • Leslie Sharp (9/4/2014 11:18:00 PM)

    Man search for the higher spiritual realm. The state of grace some believe it is Telepathy! A very hard state to reach! Letting go of all baggage that ways you down. I think it is beautiful. Of course I'm a believer! One could
    say it a dream come true! Thank You! I know I was in pain this lets you escape from bodily pain. I will treasure
    that moment in my mind's eye forever. Much Gratitude (Report) Reply

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