Season of mists and
mellowsoft and smooth / mild
fruitfulness,
Close
bosom-friendclose friend
of the maturing sun;
ConspiringWorking together
with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the
run;
To bend with apples the
cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the
corecentre
;
To swell the
, and
plumpfatten
the
shells
With a sweet
kerneleatable part of a nut
; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never
ceasestop
,
For summer has
o'er-brimm'dover-filled
their
clammydamp and sticky
.
Who hath not seen thee
oftoften
amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a
granarygrain-store
floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the
wind;
Or on a half-reap'd
sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy
hookscythe
Spares the next
and all its
twinedtwisted
flowers:
And sometimes like a
gleanerone who gathers the remaining food after the reaper has harvested the field
thou dost keep
Steady thy
ladenloaded down
head across a
brookstream
;
Or by a
, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last
oozingsdroplets of dripping juice
hours by hours.
Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While
barredpatchy
clouds
bloomblossom
the soft-dying day,
And touch the
with rosy
huecolour
;
Then in a wailful
choirsinging band
the small
mourn
Among the river
sallowswillow trees
,
borne aloftflying (borne means carried and aloft means up)
Or
sinkinggoing down
as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly
bournboundary
;
sing; and now with
treblehigh pitched sound
soft
The
whistles from a garden-
croftenclosed field
;
And gathering
s twitter in the skies.