Keat's Poetry: ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE#2


O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
    Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
  Tasting of Flora and the country green,
    Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt 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:


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