That time of year

"That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold"
"That time of year"
William Shakespeare


This poem is a sonnet, because it has 14 lines and it follows a certain rhyme scheme (abab, cdcd, efef, gg). There are three major images throughout this poem: a tree with dying autumn leaves hanging off of it, the twilight or nighttime, and a fire. The quote above provides imagery for the picture of the tree by stating that the leaves are "yellow" and that the tree may look rather dead because few leaves "do hang upon those boughs." The speaker provides a negative connotation to autumn, and views it as a time of death. The second image of darkness and night provides yet another image of death. He claims that night is "Death's second self," because the sun, which provides sunlight and helps things grow and live, disappears. The third image is a glowing fire. The fire represents death itself because it will eventually die out. The fire's flames are what keep it raging and continuing, and without them, it will burn out. I think this might be similar to how in life, we become older as time goes on, and eventually die when our time runs out. The last two lines are directed towards the speaker's lover and they mean to say that they must love one another before the fire goes out...before time escapes them and death comes upon them.

Autumn

"To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core"
"To Autumn"
John Keats

This poem is rather fitting, considering it's almost autumn right now. It is full of imagery about the fall season. The "winnowing wind," the "twined flowers," and the "mellow fruitfulness" create vivid images of the sights of autumn. Besides the sights of autumn, we also get a feel of the sounds of fall as well. The "hedge-crickets sing," and the "red-breast whistles." These sounds lead to the conclusion that fall is a bustling season filled with activity before the hibernation season of winter sets in. The birds flutter about and prepare for the coming dormant season; the bees stock up on what pollen remains; the plants are reaching their final blooms, and the clouds hover over the sky and create a "rosy hue." Autumn is our last chance [before winter] at appreciating the beauty of nature with its colored leaves, apples, and cool temperatures. I'd have to say autumn is one of my favorite seasons because of the cider and leaf piles, and this poem seems to praise the season of autumn as well.