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
Many thanks for all your views,comments and favs,always much appreciated.
The haze makes this a very atmospheric picture. Very nice I enjoyed the Keets poem as well. I don't remember reading that one. You illustrated it well. Fav
Ian