...later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimui'd their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-rcap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind ; Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme. Keats, 'Ode on a Grecian Urn' Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...through the pain or knowledge of what follows after the illusion of boundless or eternal life fades. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...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...cease, For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. (11. 1—11; emphasis added) These are powerful images, and they provide readers with a fundamental...

...budding more. And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, 10 For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. Who...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...valediction poses, or reposes, a workergoddess, his ultimate and most sublime embodiment of indolence: Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-bnmm'd their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...

...bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells. II Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes...Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath...