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…
First verse of To Autumn, by John Keats
I had to learn a lot of poetry at school and always liked these seasonal verses it evokes all that is beautiful about an English Autumn.
In Spring try Home Thoughts from Abroad.
Oh to be in England now that April’s there.