Apples on the King Ridge...

Photo by Barry Wallace

Ode to Autumn

J. Keats

            SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

                Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

                Conspiring with him how to load and bless

                With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

                To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

                And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

                To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

                With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

                And still more, later flowers for the bees,

                Until they think warm days will never cease;

                For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cell.

Please comment if you wish.

Barry Wallace