My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,Or emptied some dull opiate to the drainsOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,But being too happy in thine happiness,-That thou, light-winged Dryad of the treesIn some melodious plotOf beechen green, and shadows numberless,Singest of summer in full-throated ease.O, for a draught of vintage! that hath beenCool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,Tasting of Flora and the country green,Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!O for a beaker full of the warm South,Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,And purple-stained mouth That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,And with thee fade away into the forest dim:įade far away, dissolve, and quite forgetWhat thou among the leaves hast never known,The weariness, the fever, and the fretHere, where men sit and hear each other groan Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies Where but to think is to be full of sorrowAnd leaden-eyed despairs,Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.Away! away! for I will fly to thee,Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,But on the viewless wings of Poesy,Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:Already with thee! tender is the night,And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays But here there is no light,Save what from heaven is with the breezes blownThrough verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. He contemplates getting drunk.īorn 1975 in London England John Keats is considered one of the greatest English poets of the 19th century Died leaving his epic poem "Hyperion" unfinished In his short life he influenced many English poets vivid imagery and sensual style 'The great beauty of Poetry is, that it makes every thing every place interesting - 'John Keats to his brother George, 1819 Keats gets very sad and wants desperately to be happy again.John Keats Ode to a Nightingale Holly Bost AliseErdlen
0 kommentar(er)
