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 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 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,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
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 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 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,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
