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Bad*Wolf*: Season Of Mists and mellow fruitfulness
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Bad*Wolf*: Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun
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Bad*Wolf*: With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
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Bad*Wolf*: 281/366 To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees
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Bad*Wolf*: 232/366 To fill all fruit with ripeness to the core
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Bad*Wolf*: 289/366 To swell the gourd
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Bad*Wolf*: While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day
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Bad*Wolf*: 251/366 And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue
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Bad*Wolf*: Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay, where are they ?
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Bad*Wolf*: Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
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Bad*Wolf*: and now with treble soft, The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
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Bad*Wolf*: 209/366 Drowsed with the fume of poppies
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Bad*Wolf*: And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.