No need to post the whole poem. Keats' Ode to Autumn is accessible on countless sites. But the first verse has to be the most lyrical description of autumn in English literature, and the first line has such precision and evocative power it serves as the classic definition of the season, a six word essay on the ecstasy of nature fulfilled.
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 mossed 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'erbrimmed their clammy cells.
No need to say more. But here's a picture by one of the most nature sensitive human beings ever to put paint on canvas
”… in all nature, for instance in trees, I see expression and soul… ”
Letter to Theo van Gogh, 5 November 1882
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