The Human Seasons
By John Keats
Four seasons to fill up a year's time,
A person's heart also contains four seasons.
In the spring of his youthful, in an instant,
Clear handsome reward absorbed all of beauty.
In summer, he loved the young mind
In the spring mining nectar savour repeatedly,
To appreciate the sweet fragrance of honey,
In this meditation and fly high.
His heart fall like wings,
Then he tucked contentedly wings,
Lazy at fog color; Feast for the eyes of all things
Like creek drips through the door, not in his heart.
He also has a recognition of the pale winter,
Unless he went before the nature of death.