[00:06.47]Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
[00:09.15]Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun
[00:13.50]Conspiring with him how to load and bless
[00:15.78]With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
[00:19.83]To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
[00:22.71]And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
[00:26.40]To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
[00:28.88]With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
[00:32.43]And still more, later flowers for the bees,
[00:35.32]Until they think warm days will never cease,
[00:38.46]For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
[00:42.00]Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
[00:47.61]Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
[00:49.83]Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
[00:52.93]Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
[00:56.33]Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
[01:03.11]Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
[01:08.48]Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
[01:09.19]And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
[01:10.81]Steady thy laden head across a brook;
[01:15.48]Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
[01:21.66]Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
[01:25.65]Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
[01:26.81]Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-
[01:31.07]While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
[01:35.31]And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
[01:38.61]Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
[01:42.46]Among the river sallows, borne aloft
[01:43.83]Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
[01:47.68]And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
[01:52.04]Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
[01:56.09]The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
[01:59.68]And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.