The last great poem John Keats wrote was his ode “To Autumn.” Perhaps it is fitting that it was his final poem, since it is, as Harold Bloom said, “the subtlest and most beautiful of all Keats’s odes, and as close to perfection as any shorter poem in the English language.” It is also fitting that a poem of the harvest and one about the season that ends the year was his last great ode, since Keats’s own brief life would end just two years later.