Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
Close bosom-friend of the mating sun:
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the
thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples and moss'd cottage tress
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the ground, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er brimm'd their clammy cells.


The above passage derives its theme from