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He flits about in the air, filled with the fragrance of the freshly-mown grass in the meadows. This little Grasshopper– “he takes the lead”, as his voice sounds from “hedge to hedge.” The luxurious summer heat does not deter his merriment and unflagging energy for fun. Exhausted and languishing in the intolerable heat, they fall silent.Įven so the music of earth does not stop, for it is at this hour that one can hear the tiny grasshopper. On a scorching day when the blazing rays of the sun threatens to sap every drop of energy, the birds stop singing their delightful songs and seek refuge in the cool shade under the leafy boughs of the trees. In the octave, Keats calls the grasshopper the poet of summer. While in the octave, a hot summer is described, the sestet contains scenes of a freezing winter. The core theme of the poem is expressed by a contrast of the octave with the sestet, of the sonnet form. The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills. The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,Īnd seems to one in drowsiness half lost, Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrillsĪlso Read: Central Idea, Theme and Tone of Aunt Jennifer's Tigers by Adrienne Rich He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. With his delights for when tired out with fun That is the Grasshopper’s-he takes the lead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,Īnd hide in cooling trees, a voice will runįrom hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead The omnipresence of nature is forever enchanting, and bountiful, and her “poetry” is unspoiled, though the cyclic rhythm of the seasons comes and goes. One must learn to discern the melody, the signature print of each season to appreciate natures’ unending continuity
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He underlines forcefully that through the changing seasons, from spring to scorching summer through autumn to frost-biting winter, Nature’s poetry and music continues, ever-present. Thus nature and poetry become as one-a conviction dear to Keats. Sometimes it’s the grasshopper’s song, and at others it’s the cricket’s chirp, come day or night, summer or winter.
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We are reminded repeatedly and aesthetically as only Keats can do, of the constant music of nature. And the first line of the sestet re-affirms this announcement: