Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
This weekend I must put down two lines from Keats' renowned poem - "To Autumn." It's a beautiful, sweet poem describing - as the title suggests - autumn. But the lines that I love the most are the ones above. It's just that they feel so lonely.
In that poem, Keats mentioned Summer as 'warm days', something bright, warm, and lovely. And he connected the Spring with music, merriment, joy. Spring and Summer are usually described as such. Youth, bliss, love, joy, happiness, spirit. Autumn is quiet, and I feel it's usually a perfect picture of decay.
But Keats saw it differently. "Thou hast thy music too." Autumn is not Summer or Spring, not as lovely, not as sweet. But it has its music too. It is special in its own way.
Suddenly we are all Autumn. We are different, and we are not always understood. There are people better than us, there are people richer, smarter, nicer, kinder, prettier than us, and that is life. There are times when we compare ourselves to Spring and Summer of the world - those people. But you know what? 'Don't think about it! We have our music too.'