John Keats: Ode to a Nightingale

Ode to a Nightingale

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One 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-wingèd Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.


O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal 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-stainèd mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim -


Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, 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 sorrow And 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 blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.


I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.


Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain -- To thy high requiem become a sod.


Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.


Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music -- Do I wake or sleep?

Category:

Entertainment

Tags:

• john
• keats
• ode
• to
• nightingale
• romantic
• poetry
• english
• verse
• charles
• bryant
• spoken
• word

[BubbaFrench]

the best poem of all time and the best poet ever lived

Мой любимый поэт, лучше я не встречал

[brychar66]

Я согласен, мой друг!

I agree, my friend!

[BubbaFrench]

Oh, Charles. You read Keats so..... it's so touching!!!

Though i must admit, that your creations ar also remarkable. Did you consider your self as a serious (great, famous, remrkable - whatever) poet?

Just wanted to know, cause your last published work about England seemed somewhat confusing to me...

[brychar66]

I certainly consider myself a serious poet Bubba! Sorry if 'Land of Hope' confused you, it's a fairly straightforward little number :)

[AzraelDarkAngel540]

Your way of reading has done great justice to the poem... I'm reading a degree in English and this has helped me a lot in visualizing the poem... Many thanks from Malta!

[brychar66]

Thank you for writing!

[099meet]

For anyone who is intersted, Keats once said, hopefully, "I think I shall be among the English Poets after my death." At a mere twenty-five years of age, John Keats achieved this dream. I hope anyone who reads his work is of the same opinion.

[7depaolis]

" O blush not so! Or I shall think you knowing : And if you smile, the blushing while, Then maidenheads are going ..." Mi ricorda anche una bella canzone di G Gaber : ' non arrossire mentre ti guardo ...'. Ambedue, nel loro diverso campo, Grandi poeti. Peccato che ora non si arrosice più. Joke !

[chrish12345]

He looks a bit like Wilde in that first pik

[PoetessPossessed]

Ode to a Nightingale so frail and full of wails, o' but wise at the tail.

[myramike1996]

Can I help? I am an English teacher living on Malta who loved this poem so much that I memorised it without trying at the age of 10

[AllErikaEclectica]

Thanks for another beautiful reading. I'm so glad to have discovered your channel.

[LynnDynn]

Beautiful! Bravo!

[krglongbourn]

Please watch movie Bright Star, and read his books and see the angel of grief in the Prostant cemetary......also a story.......

[doomsoon]

I loved it, haha, im sitting here doing homework and was so bored that i typed the title of the poem im stydying and stumbled on this! and i actually found this funny at first, but later an essence of seriousness crept into me and i was like wow, sweet. :D

[iluvhopndballet]

I m studyin this for A level!