Can anyone help me with this poem by giving me ideas on what its about.....my teacher assigned this question for it: Show how Keats poem with its variation in mood mirrors everones struggle to be creative 300-350 words!!!!


___________?

Well, that's an annoying assignment. What if you don't think that 'everyone struggles to be creative?' I know, you have to work with what you're given.

Okay, first we have two assumptions. One is the creativity/struggle thing, and the other is that the moods in this poem vary. This could mean from happy to sad, to melancholy to ecstatic, but we know that we need to look for moods. Once we've got those, you need to connect to the creativity bit.

On to the poem- see you at the bottom of the page.

Ode To A Nightingale
by John Keats

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?


Look at the work stanza by stanza- read it out loud if possible.

First one- he's sad and missing whoever he's addressing.

2nd- he's saying 'if only I could drink something and fade away and die- to be with you'

3rd- he's saying 'death is okay- at least you don't suffer like you do when you're alive'

4th- 6th- he's happy because he's dead (and with the one he loves)

7th- he's waking up from his dream of being dead- he's lost and confused.

Now you need to put it together with the creativity. Try imagining that he's addressing not a woman, but his creativity- his imagination.

pam

Some good ideas there, Pam; though I differ from your interpretations of the stanzas (8, not 7).

First one. He's addressing the nightingale. He feels as if he has just consumed a spiked drink, but explains that this is because of his excess of happiness at hearing the nightingale's song. Though sung in the dark of the night it evokes summer light and greenery.

2nd. He would like to quaff a whole decanter full of some superb wine vintaged in a sunny clime, not in order to die, but to achieve the feeling of an out-of-body experience, making him invisible and able to leave his worldly cares behind and join the nightingale in the forest.

3rd. Elaborates on all the terrible worldly cares he would like to escape from. [Is this his darkness, which he would like to transcend, just as the nightingale transcends the night with its song?]

4th. He acknowledges that he can't achieve what he wants by drinking wine. He determines to do it instead by applying poetic imagination, even though he hardly feels capable. He begins imagining being in the forest with the nightingale.

5th. He imagines that in more detail.

6th. It occurs to him that there could never be a happier time to die, than in the midst of listening to the nightingale's song. But then he reminds himself that that would just mean he would miss hearing the rest of the song.

7th. Having raised the subject of his own death, he declares that the nightingale [contrastingly] is immortal; and its song ancient - perhaps going back to biblical days - and reaching even to faery domains.

8th. His poetic imagination isn't strong enough to sustain this escapist reverie. The nightingale's song also fades and becomes more distant. As it dies away, he wonders whether his experience of it was all a dream. He wonders whether he should return to full wakefulness or go back to sleep.


Kelsey, I agree with Pam, it's a tough call to try to relate all this to your teacher's assumption of a universal creative struggle. You could say something to the effect that the persona in this poem wants to be free of the unpleasant concerns which make creativeness a struggle, and instead to be as invisible and spellbinding and immortal [supposedly] as the nightingale. The persona examines possible recipes for that - alcohol, poetic imagination, escapist fancy, dreaming - but it appears none of them works for long. The poem therefore implies that there are no shortcuts to being creative; it will always be struggle. Can't say I entirely agree with that argument and moral, but it's at least an 'arguable' interpretation of the poem, and you shouldn't find it hard to fill your quota of 300-350 words with it.

Ian



Post Edited (01-28-05 08:10)

Good stuff. See also:

[www.sparknotes.com] />
Still, I suspect many of us would prefer to answer the nightingale's racket with a pellet rifle instead of an ode.

Here's an essay about John Keats and a contrast and comparison about "Ode to a Nightingale" and "To Autumn"

I hope someone can gain some benefit out of this essay.

<>John Keats died in February of 1821 of a mysterious illness. He was distraught by the knowledge of his illness and he reveals these feelings in his writings. In the poems “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn,” Keats has radically different perspectives on his sickness. He wrote the two poems during two different seasons of the year and mood of these seasons appear to have an impact on his views of his impending death. The mood of “Ode to a Nightingale” is full of regret and self-pity. He had just learned of his illness and his view on death was ambiguous and uncertain. The mood of “To Autumn” is radically different from that of “Ode to a Nightingale” because it was written in the fall and has much more of a sense of acceptance and reason. His view on death while writing that poem was much more developed and was awaiting his pending death with a calm heart.
<> Keats is ill and is burdened by the awareness of his illness while he is writing “Ode to a Nightingale,” and he conveys in his writing his sense of regret and bitterness. He is a Romantic writer; Romantics talks about themselves, not through a persona, and share feelings and express emotions to arrive at certain truths. However, in this poem he is very connected with his emotions, which has an effect on the overall tone of this poem, making the tone laced with anxiety. Keats says, “And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget,” which suggests his uncertainty and ambiguity about his death. When referring to the place that he will “fade far away” to he says, “Her, where men sit and hear each other groan: Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies.” This shows that Keats understands that we are all terminal; he just struggles with why. His feelings of bitterness commence because of his realization of his imminent death. Although he is preoccupied with his emotional state, he faces reality head on with courage.
<> Keats writes “To Autumn” after his newfound knowledge of his sickness and his perspective is dramatically different from his perspective in “Ode to a Nightingale,” which is more understanding and discerning. This appears to stem from his emotional and psychological growth since he wrote “Ode to a Nightingale.” Keats says, “Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while they hook spares and next swath and all its twined flowers,” which conveys a much more aesthetic and relaxing tone and it appears that he is at peace and serenity with the truth of his imminent death. He does not appear to have the same feelings of bitterness and regret that he had before. In “To Autumn,” Keats uses pantheistic ideas and reverential diction throughout the poem with words such as “Bless,” “thee,” and “thy,” which suggest his divine spirit and serenity. Also, he says, “With patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours,” which also suggests his peaceful anticipation of death.
<> “Ode to a Nightingale” takes place during the spring, which is full of life and beauty. Spring is the time for everything to grow and thrive, but Keats’ health is withering away and he knows that he is dying. That contributes to his bitter tone and regretful attitude that appears in “Ode to a Nightingale.” Although Keats knows he is dying, he still has the capacity to deal with uncertainty and ambiguity without reason. “To Autumn” he writes in the fall, which to Romantics suggests death and change. The mood of “To Autumn” resembles the mood of the season in that it is more accepting of death and his tone is more relaxed and peaceful. In “To Autumn” Keats says, “Where are the songs of Spring? Ah, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast they music too,” which asserts that fall has beautiful songs too. Romantics are not too particularly fond of fall, but by stating that fall is beautiful as well as spring, that gives further evidence that he accepts his condition, the way that he accepts fall.
<> Keats’ condition plagues him throughout his last years and comes across through his writing in his tone, mood, and diction. One can infer that Keats was aware of his impeding death in both “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn.” His embrace of death is evident in the transition from one poem to the next. Fall, spring, winter, and summer play a major part in the conjuration of certain feelings and emotions of human beings. The emotional state of the human mind takes its case from its surroundings and circumstances. This is clearly evident in John Keats’ poems “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn.”

John Keats died in February of 1821 of a mysterious illness ...

I thought it was consumption/tuberculosis.

Can anyone help explain the meaning of the sonnet "To sleep" by john keats and how he has made the poem effective even though there are many prescribed srtuctural rules to follow? I have the most annying english teacher in the world, she doesn't help!!!! thankyou so much if you can help!!!!!

I don't think that the poem is effective despite the rules- I think it's effective because of the rules.

He's lyng awake, praying for sleep. The sonnet format and use of alliteration and assonance are soothing- like he's making a magic spell to call up sleep.

pam

To Sleep
by John Keats

O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight!
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes.
Or wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities;
Then save me, or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

He follows the rules?

O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight!
(Bad rhyme - midnight is stressed on the penultimate syllable.)
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
(Inversion - sb careful and benign fingers)
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
(Note the lack of 'èd' on the past tense, i.e. not pleasèd. More below.)
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
(What is he - a Belgian sleuth? Sb divine forgetfulness.)
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes.
Or wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throws
(A-men, or a-MEN?)
Around my bed its lulling charities;
(chariTIZE?)

Then save me, or the passèd day will shine
(But now he uses passèd to pad the meter.)
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards
(Rough scan on that line. save ME? ... THAT still HOARDS? Spondee?)
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
(Even rougher scan on that line! BURR'wing LIKE a MOLE?)
Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,
(turn THE key DEFTly IN the OILèd WARDS?
TURN the KEY DEFTly in the OILèd WARDS? No está muy claro.)
(Note oilèd, and hushèd below. More padding. )
And seal the hushèd casket of my soul.
( ... OF my SOUL?)