By Emily Rupp
When I took my undergraduate survey course on British literature from the Romantics to the present, I had a little habit of writing down the poems I loved reading the most into the margins of my (now abandoned) bullet journal. The imagery of the poems most often motivated me to collect them, but I also kept poems that held messages that resonated with me. I didn’t want to forget them, and I certainly haven’t as “To Autumn,” by John Keats, keeps coming back into my mind as this semester comes to a close.
Continue reading “As Autumn Turns to Winter”