Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometime whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
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;
Or by a cidar-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
--"To Autumn" by John Keats
Sometime whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
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;
Or by a cidar-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
--"To Autumn" by John Keats
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ReplyDeleteA thing of beauty is a joy forever--Autumn is my favorite Ode--maybe Keats and personification could be another thread you could follow. He must have known his own person to be dying.
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