{"character_count": 1504, "word_count": 256, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8708000183105469], "ccnet_perplexity": [1642.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
 TO tUTUMN--BT JOHN KEATS. Season of mist and mellow fruitiulnesss Close bosom friend of the maturing sun; Genspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the tlatch ayes run; To bend with appses tire moss2d cottage trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness 10 tiie core; To swell tie gourd, and plump the ha- zel.sheiis With sw eet kernel; to setbudding more, And still more, later flowers for the

 bees Until they think warm days will never

 cease, ForSummer has O CT brimm d theirclam-

 my cells. Who hath not seen the oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may

 find Thee sitting careless on a granary hoor Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowlng Or on a l.alf.reap,d fnrrow sound asleep, Drowsed withthe fume of peoples, ghlle Spares ti.e ~ aex, a.patl and all it's atwined

 flowers; And sometimes like gleaner thou dost

 keep

 Steady thy laden head across orooH' Orby cider-press with pa'ientloek Thou watchcst the last oozings, hours

 by hours. Where are the songs ofsPringa Ay, where

 are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music While barred are clouds bloom the soft-dyins And touch the stnbble- plains with rosy

 hue; Then in walful choir the small gnats

 mourn

 Among the river swallows, borne alcft Or slnking the light wind lives or

 dies; And full grown lambs loud bleat from hil-

 ly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with tFe-

 ble soft The red breast whistles from a garden

 croft;

 And gathering swallows twitter in

 the skies.