All posts tagged: New England

To Autumn: Reading Keats in Pandemic Winter

By NAILA MOREIRA

 

When I nurse my baby son Oliver to satisfaction, a beautiful look grows on his face. His small damp lips purse; his cheeks pinken; his black lashes rest delicately shut. If I try to offer more, those lips squash upwards in contented refusal. “You’ve o’er-brimmed his clammy cells,” my partner Paul always observes.

He’s quoting of course from that most beautiful of poems, John Keats’ To Autumn.

To Autumn: Reading Keats in Pandemic Winter
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