Friday 5, 2018 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cSeasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness\u201d<\/p>\n
One of the list\u2019s readers last year about this time responded to an all-time favorite autumn poem from Gerard Manley Hopkins – – who pretty regularly knocks me flat\u00a0with wonder. The email contained John Keats\u2019 early 19th century romantic poem without comment. \u00a0With Keats\u2019 work, s\/he reminded me as list readers often do, of a poet I had not\u00a0noticed for a while. No scolding either, as in \u201chow can you have overlooked Keats\u201d! \u00a0 Since then, Keats works\u00a0on my imagination this time of year. \u00a0I\u2019m in his debt for a near perfect read in times of mid-autumn blustering East\/North East winds and rain. \u00a0 Best to read \u201cto autumn\u201d out loud with pauses.<\/p>\n
I am writing this Friday post on Thursday, in Denver for Regis University\u2019s trustee meeting. \u00a0 Not very blustery today along the Front Range of the Rockies. \u00a0I have some open time today but tomorrow the board will keep me busy until Delta takes me home in the late afternoon.<\/p>\n
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Have a blest weekend.<\/p>\n
john sj<\/p>\n
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Today\u2019s Post \u201cTo Autumn\u201d John Keats<\/p>\n
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
\nClose bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
\nConspiring with him how to load and bless
\nWith fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
\nTo bend with apples the moss\u2019d cottage-trees,
\nAnd fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
\nTo swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
\nWith a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
\nAnd still more, later flowers for the bees,
\nUntil they think warm days will never cease,
\nFor summer has o\u2019er-brimm\u2019d their clammy cells.<\/p>\n
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
\nSometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
\nThee sitting careless on a granary floor,
\nThy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
\nOr on a half-reap\u2019d furrow sound asleep,
\nDrows\u2019d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
\nSpares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
\nAnd sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
\nSteady thy laden head across a brook;
\nOr by a cyder-press, with patient look,
\nThou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.<\/p>\n
Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
\nThink not of them, thou hast thy music too,\u2014
\nWhile barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
\nAnd touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
\nThen in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
\nAmong the river sallows, borne aloft
\nOr sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
\nAnd full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
\nHedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
\nThe red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
\nAnd gathering swallows twitter in the skies.<\/p>\n
31 October 1795 \u2013 23 February 1821<\/p>\n https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/John_Keats<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Friday 5, 2018 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cSeasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness\u201d One of the list\u2019s readers last year about this time responded to an all-time favorite autumn poem from Gerard Manley Hopkins – – who pretty regularly knocks me flat\u00a0with … Continue reading ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/sites.udmercy.edu\/poetry\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/170\/2017\/10\/John-Keats.jpg\")
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