"Ode on Melancholy" was written by the British Romantic poet John Keats. It is one of the five odes Keats composed in 1819, which are considered to be among his best work. Essentially the poem is about how to deal—and how not to deal—with deep sadness. The speaker comes across as a kind of advisor who warns against turning to intoxication or death for relief from melancholy. Instead, the speaker agues that melancholy should be embraced. The poem also establishes a link between the good things in life and melancholy. Because anything good is doomed to end, the poem suggests that all beauty is suffused with a kind of poignant sadness.
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1No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
2 Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
3Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
4 By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
5 Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
6 Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
7 Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
8A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
9 For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
10 And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
11But when the melancholy fit shall fall
12 Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
13That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
14 And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
15Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
16 Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
17 Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
18Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
19 Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
20 And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
21She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
22 And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
23Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
24 Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
25Ay, in the very temple of Delight
26 Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
27 Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
28 Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
29His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
30 And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
1No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
2 Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
3Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
4 By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
5 Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
6 Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
7 Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
8A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
9 For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
10 And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
11But when the melancholy fit shall fall
12 Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
13That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
14 And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
15Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
16 Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
17 Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
18Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
19 Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
20 And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
21She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
22 And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
23Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
24 Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
25Ay, in the very temple of Delight
26 Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
27 Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
28 Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
29His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
30 And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
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,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Portrait of John Keats by Joseph Severn — A painting done of Keats by his friend and contemporary, Joseph Severn.
The Anatomy of Melancholy — A link to a book that Keats read frequently, published by Robert Burton in 1621.
A Contemporary's Review of Keats — A link to John Gibson Lockhart's snarky review of Keats's poetry in 1818.
A Reading of "Ode on Melancholy" — A reading brought to you by the Keats Foundation.
More by Keats — A link to a detailed biography of Keats as well as more poems, including his other odes.