• Research Paper on:
    John Clare's 'Spring Comes' and John Keats' 'To Autumn'

    Number of Pages: 5

     

    Summary of the research paper:

    In five pages this paper contrasts and compares the seasons as they are portrayed in these poems. Two sources are cited in the bibliography.

    Name of Research Paper File: JR7_RAkeats4.rtf

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    Unformatted Sample Text from the Research Paper:
    of death and the passing of time. Two incredible poems depicting the seasons, or two particular seasons, are John Keats "To Autumn" and John Clares "Spring Comes." Each deals with  a different season but each portrays that season with emotion and inspiration. In the following paper we examine each poem individually and then present a comparison and contrast of the  two poems, examining which seems to depict its season of focus more adequately. To Autumn Perhaps the first, and most powerful, image we get from this poem is  one that tells of the ripeness of the season. Fall is a time when everything is bursting to be picked, eaten, or otherwise enjoyed to its fullest before true Autumn  comes and things settle down for winter. Keats mentions the vines and the ripened fruit, providing us with images that come alive: "Conspiring with him how to load and bless/  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;/ To bend with apples the mossd cottage-trees,/ And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core" (3-6). We see the powerful  use of words such as "load," which presents us with an image of overflowing, and "bless," a word that offers a sacred sort of image of things that awe us.  Even in these two simple words we are presented with a magical picture of a time of harvest, a time that is further emphasized by "bend with apples" and "ripeness  to the core." When we picture these images we are overwhelmed with a sense of fruitfulness at it most intense. Keats continues with this description, "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 

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