The Human Seasons

By John Keats

When I Have Fears 

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,

Before high-piled books, in charactery,

Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,

Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

And think that I may never live to trace

Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,

That I shall never look upon thee more,

Never have relish in the faery power

Of unreflecting love; - then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think

Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

The Human Seasons

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 honied 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 forego his mortal nature.

Hither, Hither, Love 

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HITHER hither, love---

'Tis a shady mead---

Hither, hither, love!

Let us feed and feed!

Hither, hither, sweet---

'Tis a cowslip bed---

Hither, hither, sweet!

'Tis with dew bespread!

Hither, hither, dear

By the breath of life,

Hither, hither, dear!---

Be the summer's wife!

Though one moment's pleasure

In one moment flies---

Though the passion's treasure

In one moment dies;---

Yet it has not passed---

Think how near, how near!---

And while it doth last,

Think how dear, how dear!

Hither, hither, hither

Love its boon has sent---

If I die and wither

I shall die content!