一首关于秋天的英文诗歌

　　聆听秋天，秋的雨，秋的风，构略成一条潺潺流淌的小溪，任一抹淡淡的怀想。下面是小编整理收集的关于秋天的英文诗歌，希望对你有所帮助.

　　关于秋天的英文诗歌

　　《forever autumn》

　　So, the season of the fall begins

　　Down the crossroads in a sleepy little inn

　　By the fire when the sun goes down

　　But the night becomes you

　　And the secrets of the rain

　　Forever autumn

　　And the season of the fall begins

　　Out the nightlands when the thunderstorm sets in

　　The secrets clear in the cloudy night

　　But the night becomes you

　　And the secrets of the rain, they will stay the same

　　And the time will come soon

　　With the secrets of the rain, and the storm again

　　Coming closer every day, forever autumn

　　And the season of the fall begins

　　Past the passingbell, past willow weeping

　　A ripple forms on the brinks of time

　　But the night becomes you

　　And the secrets of the rain, they will stay the same

　　And the time will come soon

　　With the secrets of the rain, and the storm again

　　Coming closer every day, forever autumn

　　To Autumn

　　by John Keats J.

　　1

　　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.

　　2

　　Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

　　Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

　　Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

　　Thy hair sort-lifted by the winnowing wind;

　　Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,

　　Dows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

　　Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.

　　And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

　　Steady thy laden head across a brook;

　　Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,

　　Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

　　3

　　Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

　　Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,

　　While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

　　And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

　　Then in a waiful choir the small gnats mourn

　　Among the river sallows, borne aloft

　　Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

　　And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

　　Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

　　The red-breast whistles form a garden-croft;

　　And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.