{"id":58444,"date":"2012-09-22T11:01:25","date_gmt":"2012-09-22T15:01:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=58444"},"modified":"2012-09-22T11:02:34","modified_gmt":"2012-09-22T15:02:34","slug":"to-autumn-season-of-mists-and-mellow-fruitfulness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=58444","title":{"rendered":"To Autumn, Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\nI am not a summer girl. I wilt in the summer. Fall is my season. I was born in the fall. With the first breath of crispness in the air, I start to regulate back to my normal self. In honor of it being the first day of fall, here is a little bit of John Keats.<\/p>\n

ODE TO AUTUMN<\/big>
\nSEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
\nClose bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
\nConspiring with him how to load and bless
\nWith fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
\nTo bend with apples the moss\u2019d cottage-trees,
\nAnd fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
\nTo swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
\nWith a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
\nAnd still more, later flowers for the bees,
\nUntil they think warm days will never cease;
\nFor Summer has o\u2019erbrimm\u2019d their clammy cells.<\/p>\n

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
\nSometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
\nThee sitting careless on a granary floor,
\nThy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
\nOr on a half-reap\u2019d furrow sound asleep,
\nDrowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
\nSpares the next swath and all its twin\u00e8d flowers:
\nAnd sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
\nSteady thy laden head across a brook;
\nOr by a cyder-press, with patient look,
\nThou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.<\/p>\n

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
\nThink not of them, thou hast thy music too,\u0097
\nWhile barr\u00e8d clouds bloom the soft-dying day
\nAnd touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
\nThen in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
\nAmong the river-sallows, borne aloft
\nOr sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
\nAnd full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
\nHedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
\nThe redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
\nAnd gathering swallows twitter in the skies.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I am not a summer girl. I wilt in the summer. Fall is my season. I was born in the fall. With the first breath of crispness in the air, I start to regulate back to my normal self. In … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[208,160],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58444"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=58444"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58444\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":58447,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58444\/revisions\/58447"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=58444"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=58444"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=58444"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}