Bri Colorful

The Ripeness of Life

Posted on: September 18, 2010

Season of mists and yellow 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. . .

For literature class yesterday, instead of furiously writing down three different critical interpretations of Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, our professor simply handed us each a single poem and sent us off to find a quiet spot outside to read it on our own. I had read John Keat’s To Autumn before, but yesterday, sitting in the warm grass with a cool breeze blowing my hair, in the midst of students rushing to and from their classes, it was different.

The poem is about the ripeness of life; the season of autumn. The first stanza describes the fruitfulness of autumn, the second personifies autumn visually, the last rids itself of all senses but that of sound.  Somehow, the last three weeks of trying to keep up with life at top speed were forgotten and all that mattered for that short hour was the warm sun on my back, the changing reds and yellows, the soft grass, the light flickering down through the leaves. I had to slow down to enjoy it and I didn’t want to leave.

So please, instead of listening to my ramblings for a moment longer, print this poem (follow the link), take it outside, find a peaceful haven and enjoy.


1 Response to "The Ripeness of Life"

It was lovely. Thank you for directing my attention to it.

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