As soon as he realizes this, he is, in spirit, lifted up above the trees and can see the moon and the stars even though where he is physically there is only a glimmering of light. But wine is not needed to enable him to escape. The wine would put him in a state in which he would no longer be himself, aware that life is full of pain, that the young die, the old suffer, and that just to think about life brings sorrow and despair. Keats longs for a draught of wine which would take him out of himself and allow him to join his existence with that of the bird. The bird's happiness is conveyed in its singing. Envy of the imagined happiness of the nightingale is not responsible for his condition rather, it is a reaction to the happiness he has experienced through sharing in the happiness of the nightingale. We imagine that this poem takes place in the peak of summer.Keats is in a state of uncomfortable drowsiness. It sings with a "full throat," like an opera singer in a solo. The bird makes whatever space or "plot" it inhabits "melodious," and this particular plot seems to have beech trees, giving it a "beechen green" color. And in Greek mythology, a "dryad" is a nymph (female spirit) that lives in the trees.The nightingale is not a large bird, and it can fly, which seems like enough grounds to call it "light-winged" (which is pronounced with three syllables, by the way).It's to the trees what Jimmy Buffet is to the beach (hey-ya!). And why is the nightingale so happy? Because it gets to sit in the trees all day and sing about summertime.That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. for you!" - but you're not sure if they are really happy for you or just sad for themselves. He's like that friend who bursts into tears when you share really good news and cries, "I'm just. Instead, he is excessively happy for the bird's happiness. He wants to clarify that the pain he feels is not because he is jealous of the bird's happiness.Now we know that the speaker must be addressing the nightingale of the title.'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,. The poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, for example, was an opium addict, as was the writer Thomas de Quincy, who wrote an essay titled, "Confessions of an Opium Eater." This was before people discovered just how toxic opium is for the body.
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