每天一诗 英语诗歌

The human seasons

                ---- Jon Keats

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:quite coves

His soul has in its Autumn,when his wings

He furls close;contented so to look

On mists in idleness-to let fair things

Pas by unheeded as a threshold brook.

He has his Winter too of pale disfeature,

or else he would forego his mortal nature.