Ode to Melancholy (Shmoop)

Lines 1-2
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
     Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;

 The poem starts with a repeated denial or rejection—the speaker repeats "No,
no!" as though he's telling us that we're doing something wrong.
 (Fun fact! Earlier drafts of the poem included a stanza before this one, so the
"No, no" that opens it actually came in response to something that had
already been said. Check out the "Best of the Web" section for more
information on this deleted stanza, and tell us why you think Keats might have
taken it out…)
 The speaker tells us not to go to "Lethe," which is the river of forgetfulness in
Greek mythology. According to myth, any contact with the water of the River
Lethe would make you forget all of your earthly cares and troubles.
 While that might sound like a good deal, our speaker doesn't want us to forget
our troubles. Okay, got it. 
 The speaker also tells us not to "twist" the roots of "wolf's-bane" for its
"poisonous wine."
 No, he's not talking about the "wolfsbane potion" in Harry Potter that keeps
you from becoming a dangerous werewolf. The speaker's referring to
the wolfsbane flower, which is poisonous in large doses, but which is used in
tiny quantities as an analgesic or mild pain reliever in some traditional
medicines and herbal remedies.
 We can't quite tell whether the speaker is warning us not to use wolfsbane as
a poison to end pain forever, or whether he's advising against the use of
wolfsbane in small quantities as a pain reliever. Either way, though, it's clear
that he doesn't want us messing around with plants or herbs to deal with our
troubles. 
Lines 3-5
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
     By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
          Make not your rosary of yew-berries,

 The speaker also advises against taking nightshade to relieve our pain.
Nightshade is also a poisonous plant, but like wolfsbane, it can be beneficial
as a medicine in small doses. So again, the speaker's meaning can be read in
at least two ways: we shouldn't poison ourselves to end our suffering, but we
also shouldn't try to relieve it using medicine.
 The speaker makes another allusion to Greek mythology here when he calls
nightshade the "ruby grape of Proserpine." 
 Let's pause for a cultural side note: Proserpine (a.k.a. Persephone) was the
daughter of Demeter, the Greek goddess of fertility and growing things (she's
an important goddess to farmers, for obvious reasons). 
 When Hades, the god of the underworld, kidnapped Proserpine and took her
to the land of the dead to be his wife, Demeter was so distraught that all living
plants on earth died. This wasn't so good for the earth, so the other gods
intervened and worked out a compromise: Proserpine would stay
with Hades in the underworld for six months out of each year, and would
return to her mother on earth for the other 6 months. 
 And this, according to Greek mythology, is where seasons come from: when
Proserpine is in the underworld, her mother is in mourning and we get winter.
When Proserpine comes back, it's spring again. So this is a myth about new
life and regeneration, and not just about death and sadness. Go check out
the "Symbols, Imagery, Wordplay" section for more on why this allusion to
Proserpine is particularly appropriate in this poem.
 And speaking of the poem, let's get back to it.
 Check out the two references to wine or grapes in these lines. The speaker
doesn't come out and say it, but maybe he's implying that we shouldn't use
wine or other alcohol to dull our pain, either.
 The speaker also advises us not to make our rosaries, or our prayer beads,
out of yew berries. Yew is traditionally associated with mourning, but—you
guessed it—they are also extremely poisonous. 
 Okay, speaker, we get it—we shouldn't poison ourselves to escape from our
trouble. That's just plain good advice.
Lines 6-7
     Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
          Your mournful Psyche, […]

 The speaker continues to advise us of what not to do when we feel down in

the dumps, but this next one is pretty tricky, so let's take some time to tease it
out.
 First let's look at the "beetle" and "death-moth," and then we'll figure out what
he's saying about them. 
Shmoopers, it's time for another ancient mythology side note. The beetle may
be a reference to ancient Egyptian mythology in which the beetle was
regarded as a sacred symbol of resurrection—scarab beetles were placed in
tombs. Scarabs were associated with Khepri, the god of the rising sun, which
represented new life. Ancient Egyptians believed that scarab beetles were
able to generate themselves from nothing, since this species of beetle is
hatched inside balls of dung without obvious parents. 
 Okay, so the beetle seems to be associated with transformation, renewal, and
resurrection. What about that death-moth?
 Here's a biology side note. The death-moth, or the death's-head moth, is a
common name for the Acherontia atropos. It got the nickname—and the
reputation for being an omen of death—because of the pattern on its body
that looks like a human skull.
 The moth, like the beetle, is often seen as a symbol for transformation and
resurrection, since (as we all know from having read The Very Hungry
Caterpillar as little kids), caterpillars transform into moths or butterflies.
 Okay, so we've got two possible symbols for resurrection and transformation
in this line, both of which are associated with death in some way. The speaker
tells us that we shouldn't let them "be our mournful Psyche."
 Psyche is the ancient Greek root word in "psychology" and "psychic"—it
means the "mind" or the "spirit" or "soul." In other words, we shouldn't allow
our minds and souls to become transformed by sorrow or to become
obsessed with these traditional symbols of death.
 But why does he say "Psyche" instead of "soul" or "mind"? Well, "Psyche" has
another meaning, too, which means it's time for another mythology side note. 
 In Greek myth, Psyche was the human lover of Cupid, the son of Aphrodite,
the goddess of love. Psyche was married to Cupid without knowing who he
was, but was warned never to look at her husband's face when he visited her
at night. 
 She disobeyed (hard to blame her), and as a punishment, Aphrodite made
Psyche perform a series of cruel and difficult tasks.
 Cupid pleaded their case to the rest of the gods, who told Aphrodite to back
off and allowed Psyche to become an immortal.
 The story ends happily, with Psyche and Cupid reunited as equals.
 So when the speaker refers to a "mournful Psyche," he could be alluding to
the part of the story when Psyche is abandoned and forced to perform
penance for having dared to look at her immortal husband.
 On the surface, the speaker is telling us not to become obsessed
with symbols of death, but we should also be aware of the fact that both the
 beetle and the death-moth are also associated with transformation and
resurrection—and the myth of Psyche does end happily.
 What's up with that? Perhaps the speaker is trying to suggest—in a very
subtle way—that death and mourning can often be transformed into new life
and happiness? What do you think?
Lines 7-8
          […] nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;

 The speaker adds that we shouldn't allow the owl—another traditional symbol
of death—to become the "partner" of our sorrow. 
 Again, we're not supposed to become too attached to symbols of sadness.
Okay, okay, Keats—we get the point.

Lines 9-10
     For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
          And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

 Finally, the speaker explains why we're not supposed to look for relief from
our sorrow from forgetfulness, drugs, or suicide, and why we're not supposed
to obsess too much over traditional symbols of sorrow or death. It's because
doing those things would "drown" our soul's anguish.
 But wait a second. Wouldn't it be a good thing to drown our sorrows? Wouldn't
we want to make ourselves feel better, if we could? Why does he say this is
bad? 
 The key word here is "wakeful"—the speaker wants us to be alert and aware
of our own anguish. We're supposed to acknowledge it, and not try to cover it
up with medicine or other means.
 This seems like a good place to notice the rhyme and meter of the poem.
Check out the ends of the lines. Notice anything? 
Shmoop does: the rhyme scheme is ABABCDECDE—the classic pattern in
an ode. 
 We've also got ten syllables per line in a sort of daDUM daDUM meter. That,
ladies and gents, is iambic pentameter. Go check out the "Form and
Meter" section for more on that.
Lines 11-14
But when the melancholy fit shall fall
     Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
     And hides the green hill in an April shroud;

 The first stanza told us what we should not do when we feel melancholy—this

stanza tells us what we should do. Finally, some positive, constructive advice.
 The speaker tells us that when a melancholy mood strikes, it comes down
suddenly, like a cloud or a fog dropping from the sky. Boom: sadness.
 And when that happens, the "weeping cloud" or fog of our melancholy covers
up flowers and hides the green grass on the hills.
 In other words, when we're sad, our bad mood can blind us to the beautiful
things around us. Depression can be like a fog that conceals all the pretty
stuff. 
 The word "shroud" is used to describe the way a mist or fog rests on a hillside
like a veil, but it's also a word we associate with death—a "shroud" is the cloth
that gets wrapped over a dead person at his or her funeral. Adds a rather
depressing note to these lines, don't you think?

Lines 15-17
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
     Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
          Or on the wealth of globed peonies;

 So when that melancholy mood strikes, we're supposed to feed ("glut") our
sorrow on beautiful things (like roses), not on the sad emblems of death.
 Don't go getting too uplifted, though. The beautiful things we're supposed to
focus on aren't meant to cheer us up; they're meant to remind us of the
impermanence of joy and beauty.
 "Morning roses" don't last very long before they wilt; the rainbows you see at
the beach in salty ocean spray obviously disappear within seconds;
and globed peonies, like morning roses, fade and turn brown very soon after
they open. 
 Seems like the speaker wants us to think of beauty and sorrow as being
linked together, somehow, because all beauty fades with time. Maybe this is
connected to those earlier images of death (the beetle and the death-moth)
that are also emblems of resurrection or transformation…
Lines 18-20
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
     Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
          And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

 The speaker offers us another way to "feed" our melancholy mood: if our lover
(the speaker assumes the reader is male and that his lover, or "mistress," is a
woman) is angry, we should let her yell or "rave" at us, and just hold her hand,
and contemplate the beauty of her eyes.
 Yeah, because that always ends a fight.
 The speaker keeps using the metaphor of "feeding" or "glutting" our
melancholy mood. It seems like he wants us to keep the melancholy alive. But
why might that be?
 Maybe this is connected to the end of the first stanza, when he tells us to be
wakeful and alert to our melancholy. 
 What do you think? Why should we "feed" our bad mood, according to this
speaker?

Lines 21-24
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
     And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
     Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:

 The "she" of this line refers back to the "mistress" of the previous stanza.
 She is beautiful, but someday her beauty will fade. That's right, Shmoopers:
your mistress will someday grow old and die, and the speaker of this poem
wants us to contemplate that fact.
 The speaker personifies Beauty when he says that the mistress "dwells with
Beauty." Why doesn't he just say that she is beautiful? Why does he make
"Beauty" into a kind of roommate that she lives with? 
 Maybe it's because her beauty isn't permanent—someday it's going to move
out, and she's going to be living alone, without her beauty. If he said that
she is beautiful, it would seem like her beauty were more permanent.
 Another personification in the next line: the speaker says that Joy is like a
person who blows kisses with his hand at his mouth to say "adieu," or
farewell.
 Yet another personification: Pleasure is "nigh," or nearby, and turns into
poison right as you're sipping at it like a bee sips nectar from a flower.
Lines 25-28
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
     Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
          Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
     Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;

 Fun fact, Shmoopers: "Ay" is the poetic way of saying "yep."

 Yep, says the speaker, you can be in the midst of pleasure and still find a way
to feel melancholy.
 The speaker uses another metaphor to express this—pleasure or "Delight" is
personified as a god. You can be worshiping in the temple of the god Delight,
and still find a "shrine" (a holy place) dedicated to Melancholy with a capital
M.
 Note that "sovran" is a contraction of the word "sovereign" to give the word the
right number of syllables to fit the meter—check out "Form and Meter" for
more on this.
 But because the shrine to Melancholy is "veiled," or partially hidden, in the
temple of Delight, not everyone can see it.
 Only someone who is able to burst the "grapes of Joy" is able to see how
Melancholy is linked with Delight.
 You might think that a person who always sees something sad in every
"temple of Delight" would be a terrible pessimist, but the speaker assures us
that the person who can see Melancholy in happy places actually has good
taste—they have a "fine palate."

Lines 29-30
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
          And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

 The gist here is that the person who understands that melancholy is linked
with joy and pleasure will understand the power of melancholy. 
 And that person's soul will be a "trophy" that melancholy has won. The poem
ends on a bit of a sinister note, implying that everyone who experiences
melancholy is like some sort of victory of the personified emotion, like a deer
head mounted on a wall. 
 Think of it this way: pleasure and melancholy are linked because nothing that
brings you pleasure lasts forever. Beauty is fleeting, after all. And once that
beauty or pleasure fades, what's left is grief at its loss—or melancholy.
 Food and Eating
Symbol Analysis
 Line 2: The speaker is using a metaphor when he refers to the "poisonous
wine" of wolfs-bane. Wolfs-bane is a poisonous herb, but it certainly isn't
going to be the hot new thing in wine making.
 Line 4: Another metaphor, with an allusion to classical Greek mythology
thrown in for good measure. The speaker continues the metaphor of poison
being like wine that he started in line 2 when he describes poisonous
nightshade as being like a "ruby grape." He associated the nightshade with
"Proserpine" because Proserpine is the queen of the underworld in classical
Greek mythology, and if you drank wine made from nightshade, you'd die and
find yourself as the newest inhabitant of Proserpine's kingdom. Referring to
the "grape" instead of to wine is an example of synecdoche, or referring to a
part of something to represent the whole.
 Line 15: The speaker advises us to "glut" ourselves on roses. Are we really
supposed to eat flowers? Put down your knife and fork, Shmoopers, this is
just another metaphor. The speaker personifies the feeling of melancholy here
when he says that we should "glut" ourselves on beautiful flowers—he's
saying we should feed our bad mood by thinking about how beautiful things
won't last.
 Line 20: Before you start trying to eat your girlfriend's beautiful eyes (gross!),
remember that this is just another metaphor. Again, the speaker wants us to
"feed" our melancholy by focusing on beautiful things (like our mistress's
eyes) that won't last forever. 
 Line 24: Lots going on here: we have more metaphor when the speaker says
that Pleasure is turning into poison, and that repeated "P" sound
(a.k.a. alliteration) makes "pleasure" and "poison" seem even more closely
associated. 
 Lines 27-29: The speaker says that the only people who can see how closely
pleasure and melancholy are linked are the folks who can burst "Joy's grapes"
in their mouth with their tongue. Yes, you guessed it—that's a metaphor.
We're not talking about literal grape-squishing. Grapes are sweet, but their
sweetness doesn't last forever. The reference to grapes also refers back to
the poisonous "grapes of Proserpine" from back in line 4. Seems like any food
or drink in this poem looks tasty and pleasant (wine! grapes! "glutting"
ourselves on roses!), but then turns out to be poisonous, sad, or wilty.
 Resurrection and New Life
Symbol Analysis
 Line 4: Proserpine is the queen of the Underworld in classical Greek
mythology, but she's also the daughter of Demeter (the goddess of fertility and
growing things). She only hangs out in the underworld with dead people for
half of the year. In the springtime, Proserpine returns to earth and plants start
growing again. So the mention of Proserpine is an allusionboth to death and
to the underworld, but also a suggestion of the possibility of new life to follow.
 Line 5: By using the metaphorical image of a "rosary of yew-berries," the
speaker alludes to the Christian (specifically Catholic) rite of reciting prayers
on rosary beads. And when a poet makes a reference to Christianity, the idea
of resurrection and new life is often not far from their minds. So this image
could be meant to suggest that although the yew-berries are poisonous,
there's still a possibility of new life somewhere.
 Line 6: The speaker uses more metaphor when he tells us that we shouldn't
allow ourselves to become obsessed with traditional symbols of death and
mourning like the beetle or the death-moth (a.k.a. the death's-head moth). But
these traditional symbols of death can also be associated with resurrection or
new life: the scarab beetle was placed in tombs in ancient Egypt, but that's
because they were thought to be important to the process of resurrection. The
death-moth might be creepy and associated with death because of the skull-
like shape on its back, but moths and caterpillars are also associated with
resurrection because of the way that a caterpillar transforms into a moth or
butterfly.
 Spring and Flowers
Symbol Analysis
 Line 4: Proserpine is the Greek goddess of spring and new life as well as the
queen of the Underworld, so this allusion could refer both to her role as the
goddess of the land of the dead and to her association with spring and
flowers. Seems pretty appropriate for a poem that wants to emphasize how
much life and death are linked. 
 Lines 13-14: The speaker uses another metaphor when he says that a
melancholy mood is like a fog that hides a green hill and all its "droop-headed
flowers" in springtime. But the moisture from a fog can actually help flowers to
grow, so that the hill is even greener and more flowery after the fog lifts. So
maybe the speaker is suggesting that feeling melancholy every now and then
can make your good moods seem even brighter? The image of the "April
shroud" is almost an oxymoron, since April, a springtime month, brings new
life and growth, while a "shroud" is a cloth that gets wrapped around dead
bodies before burial. 
 Lines 15 and 17: The speaker references "morning roses" and "peonies" as
examples of flowers that are beautiful, but whose beauty doesn't last long. So
if you're feeling melancholy, you should nourish that depression by thinking
about flowers that are going to wilt and turn brown in a day or two.
Ode
Let's take a little trip back in time. The ode is an ancient Greek form of poetry that is a
formal, dignified form generally written in praise of or in defense of a particular person or
thing. Keats's "Ode on Melancholy" certainly qualifies—his poem is written in a formal way,
with a tight rhyme and meter, and it argues that melancholy is a good thing. You can only
experience joy and pleasure, argues the speaker, by allowing yourself to experience
melancholy and anguish, as well. Joy and pain are linked.

That's the basics of the ode. Now for the nitty-gritty details. What about the rhyme and
meter? Well, the poem is broken into 3 stanzas of 10 lines each. So far, so good. But
the rhyme schemeis a bit quirky. The first two stanzas follow a rigid pattern:
ABABCDECDE. So the first four lines of the poem stand apart in terms of the rhyme
scheme, and the final six lines do their own thing, too. 

Then the final stanza shakes it up a bit. Although it also opens with ABAB, the final six lines
are mixed up. It ends with CDEDCE. Keats's most famous ode, the "Ode on a Grecian Urn"
shakes up rhyme scheme in the final six lines, as well. 

So here's a two-parted question to tackle: first, how do the first four lines stand apart from the
final six lines in each stanza in terms of the theme or message of those lines? And second,
why would Keats mess around with the rhyme scheme in the final six lines of the last stanza?
What's the effect of that? (And yes, you can assume he did it on purpose.)
Metrical Matters
Now let's tackle the meter of the poem, which is a fancy way of describing the pattern of
stressed and unstressed syllables. This poem, like many of Keats's odes, is written in iambic
pentameter.

We'll translate: iambic refers to the particular pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables.
An iamb is an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable: daDUM. Pentameter tells
us that there are five ("penta-") of those iambs per line. Let's check it out in action—we'll
highlight the syllables that you'd naturally stress when reading this out loud:

Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose (15)

There you have it: daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM. Five iambs. Iambic
pentameter.

Most of the poem is fairly regular in its iambic pentameter, although there are some notable
exceptions where Keats mixes things up for effect. For the most part, you don't even hear the
meter unless you're looking for it (some critics have argued that iambic meter sounds most
like natural English conversation), so those places where Keats breaks the meter really do
stand out unexpectedly. For example, in line 12, the first iamb is reversed:

Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud

This is called a trochaic substitution. It seems to emphasize the suddenness of the onset of a

melancholic mood—this line smacks you in the face with the inverted first foot right up front
before gliding back into that more conversational iambic pattern. How cool is that? What
other breaks in the meter can you find, and how do they affect your reading?
Food and Eating
 Line 2: The speaker is using a metaphor when he refers to the "poisonous wine" of
wolfs-bane. Wolfs-bane is a poisonous herb, but it certainly isn't going to be the hot
new thing in wine making.

 Line 4: Another metaphor, with an allusion to classical Greek mythology thrown in

for good measure. The speaker continues the metaphor of poison being like wine that
he started in line 2 when he describes poisonous nightshade as being like a "ruby
grape." He associated the nightshade with "Proserpine" because Proserpine is the
queen of the underworld in classical Greek mythology, and if you drank wine made
from nightshade, you'd die and find yourself as the newest inhabitant of Proserpine's
kingdom. Referring to the "grape" instead of to wine is an example of synecdoche, or
referring to a part of something to represent the whole.

 Line 15: The speaker advises us to "glut" ourselves on roses. Are we really supposed
to eat flowers? Put down your knife and fork, Shmoopers, this is just another
metaphor. The speaker personifies the feeling of melancholy here when he says that
we should "glut" ourselves on beautiful flowers—he's saying we should feed our bad
mood by thinking about how beautiful things won't last.

 Line 20: Before you start trying to eat your girlfriend's beautiful eyes (gross!),
remember that this is just another metaphor. Again, the speaker wants us to "feed" our
melancholy by focusing on beautiful things (like our mistress's eyes) that won't last
forever. 

 Line 24: Lots going on here: we have more metaphor when the speaker says that
Pleasure is turning into poison, and that repeated "P" sound (a.k.a. alliteration) makes
"pleasure" and "poison" seem even more closely associated. 

 Lines 27-29: The speaker says that the only people who can see how closely pleasure
and melancholy are linked are the folks who can burst "Joy's grapes" in their mouth
with their tongue. Yes, you guessed it—that's a metaphor. We're not talking about
literal grape-squishing. Grapes are sweet, but their sweetness doesn't last forever. The
reference to grapes also refers back to the poisonous "grapes of Proserpine" from back
in line 4. Seems like any food or drink in this poem looks tasty and pleasant but then
turns out to be poisonous, sad, or wilty.
Resurrection and New Life
 Line 4: Proserpine is the queen of the Underworld in classical Greek mythology, but
she's also the daughter of Demeter (the goddess of fertility and growing things). She
only hangs out in the underworld with dead people for half of the year. In the
springtime, Proserpine returns to earth and plants start growing again. So the mention
of Proserpine is an allusion both to death and to the underworld, but also a suggestion
of the possibility of new life to follow.

 Line 5: By using the metaphorical image of a "rosary of yew-berries," the speaker

alludes to the Christian (specifically Catholic) rite of reciting prayers on rosary beads.
And when a poet makes a reference to Christianity, the idea of resurrection and new
life is often not far from their minds. So this image could be meant to suggest that
although the yew-berries are poisonous, there's still a possibility of new life
somewhere.

 Line 6: The speaker uses more metaphor when he tells us that we shouldn't allow
ourselves to become obsessed with traditional symbols of death and mourning like
the beetle or the death-moth (a.k.a. the death's-head moth). But these traditional
symbols of death can also be associated with resurrection or new life: the scarab
beetle was placed in tombs in ancient Egypt, but that's because they were thought to
be important to the process of resurrection. The death-moth might be creepy and
associated with death because of the skull-like shape on its back, but moths and
caterpillars are also associated with resurrection because of the way that a caterpillar
transforms into a moth or butterfly.

Spring and Flowers

o Line 4: Proserpine is the Greek goddess of spring and new life as well as the
queen of the Underworld, so this allusion could refer both to her role as the
 goddess of the land of the dead and to her association with spring and flowers.
Seems pretty appropriate for a poem that wants to emphasize how much life and
death are linked. 
o Lines 13-14: The speaker uses another metaphor when he says that a melancholy
mood is like a fog that hides a green hill and all its "droop-headed flowers" in
springtime. But the moisture from a fog can actually help flowers to grow, so that
the hill is even greener and more flowery after the fog lifts. So maybe the speaker
is suggesting that feeling melancholy every now and then can make your good
moods seem even brighter? The image of the "April shroud" is almost
an oxymoron, since April, a springtime month, brings new life and growth, while
a "shroud" is a cloth that gets wrapped around dead bodies before burial. 
o Lines 15 and 17: The speaker references "morning roses" and "peonies" as
examples of flowers that are beautiful, but whose beauty doesn't last long. So if
you're feeling melancholy, you should nourish that depression by thinking about
flowers that are going to wilt and turn brown in a day or two.