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    The Human Seasons

    by John Keats
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    Page 1 of 1
    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 honeyed 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: -
    He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
    Or else he would forgo his mortal nature.
    Page 1 of 1
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