ode to a nightingale

Excerpted from ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE by John Keats via Brooklyn Museum 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…