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-eves 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'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
John Keats
Ode to Autumn.
****
You have filled my heart with joy,
and my day with positive hope.
for
True friendship is like the seasons,
passing one after another.
A life filled with
gentle love.
***
Love you beyond Autumn.
Me
No comments:
Post a Comment