Favourite Poem - Ode On Melancholy

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

This is the first stanza of my favourite poem by John Keats. It's also the first poem that really sparked my interest in poetry.
Why do I like it? Well, at the risk of sounding superficial, I adore it aesthetically - the beauty of his language. I love the references - Lethe, Proserpine, Psyche, and the animals and plants linked with death. The second and third stanzas are just as gorgeous.
I also like how the meaning is not immediately apparent; after Keats has wooed you with the words, you read it again and again, and eventually it becomes clear.

It's hard to choose a favourite, though, and I have many others that I love amost as much - or just as much, for that matter - as this one.

-Isabelle