Ode on Melancholy
John Keats
1795 to 1821
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
But when the melancholy fit shall fall