Analysis of Ode To A Nightingale
John Keats 1795 (Moorgate) – 1821 (Rome)
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
Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sun-burnt 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, 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 tomorrow.
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,
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, in embalmed 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 covered 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,
Called him soft names in many a mused 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
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 that music:---do I wake or sleep?
Scheme | ABABCXDCAD EFGFHEIHGI JKJKLMNLMN OAAXPKAPKX QRQRSTUSTU VWVWXXXOXX YZYZ1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 4 5 6 7 8 6 7 8 |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Tetractys (21%) |
Metre | 1110010101 111111111 11011100101 110101111 1111011101 11011001100 11111101 0101001 111011 111001101 1101110111 101100111 1011000101 10110111 1101011011 1101011 1101010101 01011 1111010101 011101010101 1101010101 1101011101 0100010001 1111011101 1101011111 1111010101 11111111110 010101 1101010101 1111110101 0101111111 11110011 1101111 1011010001 0101110101 010111101 1001110101 111111 11110110101 11101011 11011101111 1110110101 100110111 101000101 0101000111 110010010 11010010101 011101 0101111101 011111101 1110011001 111101111 1111010011 1101011101 1111011111 110101111 1111011101 011100 1111011101 1111000101 1111110101 110010111 0111110111 0101110001 0101111101 1011111111 11010101001 011111 1101100101 1100101101 0101011101 1111111111 0101010111 1111110101 0101110101 101110011 1011011101 001101 1101010101 1111011111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 3,653 |
Words | 596 |
Sentences | 20 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 |
Lines Amount | 80 |
Letters per line (avg) | 32 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 320 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 74 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 03, 2023
- 2:59 min read
- 3,872 Views
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"Ode To A Nightingale" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23406/ode-to-a-nightingale>.
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