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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=399961" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To summer (in reply to John Keats)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=399961" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Season of bright hued skies and great fruitfulness<br>intimate lover of the raging sun<br>forever baring fruit in great supply to bless, <br>from the very beginning your beauty was spun<br>to supply in sheer kindness<br>by the Eternal One<br>as the greatest in beauty, in sheer shimmering<br>and forever more <br>a follower of the dainty spring<br>with sweetness, splendour and fragrance at your core<br>as spring has gracefully waved you in.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=399961" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Even children wander stricken through your orchards<br>in reverence to taste, to smell and your sheer beauty<br>following the greatest mother, holding you in the highest regards, <br>but I see thee as utterly witty and past lovely, very pretty<br>the mature bride that is ever blossoming, ever fruitful<br>and ravishing, you wade through life, really fair, <br>always gentle, never reproachful<br>with the sky, the sun, the wind in your hair<br>and you make you palace among bed upon bed of flowers<br>as a immortal queen bedecked in lovely green<br>fulfilling your duties in the passing hours.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=399961" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The songs, the joys of blossoming, <br>are sung in your presence, with thunder and rain<br>are spent, are swept away, are withering<br>while you bring forth without pain<br>and all the elements sing of your great glory<br>and never like that of spring<br>with even insects, birds in accessory<br>your praises sing, with voices that ring<br>while you rule supreme over your territory<br>while you feed and heed every living thing<br>and at your passing, you remain the sweetest memory.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=399961" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">[Reference: To Autumn by John Keats.]</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Gert+Strydom">Gert Strydom</a></strong></div>