Ode To A Nightingale
Kelly, Paul [Australia]
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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 lethwards had sunk
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot
But being too happy in thine happiness
That thou, light-winged 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 cooled
A long age in the deep-delved 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-stained mouth
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen
And with thee fade away into the forest dim
Fade far away, dissolve, 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 grey 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 parts
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
Clustered 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 an embalmรจd darkness scarce seeth sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild
White hawthorn, and the pastel eglantine
Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves
And mid-May's eldest chime
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
And call'd him soft names in many a musรจd 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 sonnet
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 RuthWhen, sick for
Home, she stood in tears amid the alien corn
The same that oft-times hath charmed 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 famed 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 their music: do I wake or sleep?