The Human Seasons - John Keats

Album cover art for "The Human Seasons - John Keats" by Richard Mitchley

Richard Mitchley - Pop

The Human Seasons - John Keats

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Lyrics

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 Hе has his Winter too of pale misfeaturе Or else he would forego his mortal nature

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Credits

Writers
  • John Keats