The Seasons : Spring by James Thomson
The Seasons : Spring Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come, And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, While music wakes around, veil’d in a shower Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts With unaffected grace, or walk the plain With innocence and meditation join’d In soft assemblage, listen to my song, Which thy own Season paints; when Nature all Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. And see where surly Winter passes off, Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts: His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, The shatter’d forest, and the ravaged vale; While softer gales succeed, at…
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
Snow Days I’m not a winter kind of girl, because I love warm weather, but my idea of a perfect snowy afternoon would be sitting in front of a lovely fireplace surrounded by cats and books. That is how I spent many snowy afternoons while I was growing up, especially on Sundays. The roast beef and potatoes for Sunday dinner would bake in the oven. My parents and I would sit in front of our living room fireplace and read. We would occasionally glance up and watch the snow falling outside. My father would read his magazines: Time, U.S. News and World Report. My mother would read biographies. I would…
Merry Classical Christmas!
Merry Classical Christmas and Happy New Year! What a long and busy year it’s been! I am very happy with the results of the Presidential election. I am feeling hopeful. Now we can relax with our families and enjoy the holidays. I love listening to special music that is appropriate to the season. There is nothing that gets me more in the Christmas spirit than some great music by great artists! I grew up listening to a lot of classical music. My family is European, and we always enjoyed reading, classical music, and sitting in the living room before the fireplace. I did not grow up watching football or eating…
To Autumn by John Keats (1820)
To Autumn by John Keats 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. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a…
