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 happy in thine happiness
that thou, light-tipped dryad of the trees
singest of summer in full-throated ease

or some such

i don't know i don't much care for keats to be honest