An Ode To Autumn, by John Keats

Poem’s form reflects the three main phases of Autumn. Can be read as literal celebration of an often neglected season, but also as a metaphor for – and a celebration of – life. The iambic pentameter reflects the natural rhythm of speech, helping to convey the measured/concentrated flow of the season. The rhyme scheme is non-repetitive. An appeal to the senses, with the visual imagery giving way to the aural in the end.

Stanza 1

Relaxed, sensuous opening conjuring up the image of dawn and appealing to the senses. Personified divine relationship that conveys the concentrated power of the natural world. Variety and voluminous growth across a variety of (almost idealised) locations contained within a single sentence. Slight presence of humankind is overtaken by the natural world. Growth conveyed through rhyme scheme, infinitive verbs, repetition. Cautionary ending – sense of foreboding and negative atmosphere – indicating necessary transition.

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 1. 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,         5   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,         10     For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness, . 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.