Poetry


At high school, I found a passion for writing. In fact, in year 11 and 12, I decided that I wanted to become an English teacher. So when I found out I could go to university, it was obvious that I would further study English Literature. My lecturer was an American called Joel Dando, and it was very helpful that he was good looking as well as motivational. He opened my world up to Chaucer, Shakespeare, Keats, Lord Byron, Tennyson, Walt Whitlam (to name a few). Eventually, my desire to teach waned, but my passion for writing didn’t. I eventually graduated university as a Journalist, but every now and then, I will find a piece of writing that takes me back to that wide-eyed student. Today, Keats does it again. I really resonate with this poem, the four seasons of the mind. I would say my mind is in Autumn, which is on the exact polar of the season we are about to enter; Spring! Explains a few things actually!

The Human Seasons
by John 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: 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.

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