Ode on Melancholy

And I think the intensity that he felt, the sort of simultaneous coexistence of life and the imminence of death, of love and tragedy, of pleasure and pain, of happiness and sadness, the fact that these things sort of exist together, th- this is what autumn, th- this poem is really all about.

And in, in another ode, one called Ode to Melancholy, he wrote, "Ay, in the very temple of delight, veiled Melancholy has her sovereign shrine." So just at the moment of delight, there's melancholy.

This poem, I think when we're going through it, which we're going to do in some detail, what, what you should be thinking about is this sort of coincidence of the moment of ripeness is also the moment of decay and, and imminent death.

And he wrote about autumn.

This recording is in the public domain.

Ode on Melancholy by John Keats.

Read for LibriVox.org. No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Imprison her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.