By John Keats (1819)
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…
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind…
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too —
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn…
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Analysis
“To Autumn” perfects Keats’s art of sufficiency. The ode praises ripeness not as prelude to loss but as fulfillment with loss included. Personifying the season as a laborer — gleaner, reaper, watcher — Keats honors the work behind abundance, the human and natural economies that bring a year to sweetness.
The final stanza’s music accepts time’s forward motion without complaint. Spring’s songs are not denied but answered by another register — gnats, swallows, a soft-dying light. The poem’s serenity is not indifference; it is gratitude at the edge of change. Keats finds a way to love the moment that knows it is ending.