Ode To A Nightingale by John Keats
Read by Benedict Cumberbatch

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-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
And mid-May’s eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain —
To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ‘tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?

(Source: hxcfairy, via cumberbatchattack)

random-nexus:

timberwolfoz:

moonblossom:

thewestcoastghost-:

strangersatthemall:

taodragon926:

strangersatthemall:

Mother of God….

I was not prepared for this picture.

…..And Benedict Cumberbatch just went on the list of “Men I’d Go Gay For”

Benedict Cumberbatch: Defying sexuality since 1976.

Legitimately caught off guard by the pretty. Damn.

This is one of my favourite photos of him from one of my favourite photoshoots - it’s actually the lock screen on my phone. Makes getting a phone call so much more pleasant, no matter who the caller is XD

Good god.  That’s my headcanon for him after three years on the run.  And I wasn’t aware this picture existed. O.O

What?  Were we saying something?

(Source: sherllocked, via otterbatch)

the-absolute-funniest-posts:

I am like:

It keeps getting better and better every time I play it and I go like:

After a month, they play it on the radio and I am like:

I hear people singing it on the street and I look at them like

When I hear someone singing it with a wrong lyrics I am like

Then my friend approaches me to ask me if I’ve heard of that song he goes like

Feeling disappointed of him not being updated, I am like:

If you follow this blog, you will finally achieve true and lasting happiness

(Source: mballard, via the-absolute-funniest-posts)

You’re the meaning in my life, you’re the inspiration… hahaha

(Source: likes-boys, via cumberbatchattack)

Goddammit, I never imagined smoking could be this hot. HOT, goddammit!

(via shaddicted)

marshatimesthree:

“sentiment? what are you talking about?”
“you.”
“oh dear god, look at the poor man. you don’t actually think i was interested in you. why? because you’re the great sherlock holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?”
“no, because i took your pulse. elevated. pupils dilated. i imagine john watson thinks love’s a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very disruptive. when we first met, you told me the disguise is always a self-portrait. how true of you. the combination of your safe, your measurements, but this…this is far more intimate. this is your heart. and you should never let it rule your head. you should’ve chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you worked for, but you just couldn’t resist it could you? i’ve always assumed that love was a dangerous disadvantage. thank you for the final proof.”

THIS scene. It drove me nuts.

(Source: adamlvine, via shaddicted)

Submitted by meryldenieceuy

(Source: stuffnoonetoldme.blogspot.com, via cinderellainrubbershoes)