A New List of Poems for 1st Quarter

The Human Seasons. John Keats. Four seasons fill the measure of the year; Four seasons are there in the mind of man. He hath his lusty spring, when fancy clear. Takes in all beauty with an easy span: He hath his summer, when luxuriously. He chews the honied cud of fair spring thoughts, Till, in his soul dissolv’d, they come to be. Part of ... ................
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