...to Helmut (he's my husband), and once I read to him the Nightingale poem, where it says, 'thou wert not born for death, immortal bird, no hungry generations tread thee down'. . . And Helmut asked me, laughing, 'Now why did you say thou wert not born for death immortal boy?...

...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. VII Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I...

...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.H If the poetic performative restored the melancholic Wordsworth and even the dejected Coleridge...

...midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still vvouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. VII Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I...

...strategy of Keats's ode. The living equivalent of his Grecian urn, Keats's nightingale transcends time: "The voice I hear this passing night was heard / In ancient days." Tuckerman's ode treats his cricket in a similar fashion: "So wert thou loved in that old graceful time...

...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. As Keats contemplates quitting the world altogether, his grief about the loss of its mixed blessings...

...ecstasy! The richness of this thought is immediately nullified by the realism of mortal extinction: "Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — / To thy high requiem become a sod." Consider the fourth stanza of Ode on a Grecian Urn: a lovingly described procession of townspeople...

...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. LIDGATE: I say, that's wonderful. May I just look? (Takes the book from BARMBY.J "Now more than ever...

...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.~7 Keats's actual death, in cruel and bitter irony, was anything but a ceasing upon the midnight...

...But [...] guess each sweet [...]" („Ode to the Nightingale" (Anm. 667) v. 41 und 43). Ebd.: „Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! / No hungry generations tread thee down; [...]" (v. 61 f). ' Vgl. auch Fry: „[...] the echo of a word already spoken, reduces words from signs...