In the canon
Ode on Melancholy
- Form
- Form Poem
- Year
- Year 1819
- Pages
- Pages 1
"No, no, go not to Lethe": the poem opens by catching a sleeve, stopping a sufferer on the way to the poison cupboard. Wolf's-bane, nightshade, the ruby grape of Proserpine, the death-moth: Keats lays out the whole apothecary of oblivion only to knock it from the reader's hand.
Ay, in the very temple of Delight / Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
The blurb, the gist, the why of the day and the work itself are in the app. The first button needs it on this device; the second gets it there.