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…
Meaghan Walsh Gerard
writer. photographer. woman of letters.