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From: Great Works of Literature
Date: 19920101
Author:Keats, John
00-00-0000
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 thy 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 Cool'd a long age in the deep - delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal ...
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