THE SHADOW

MELANCHOLY

From "The Nice Valor"

I you vain delights,
s are the nights,
ou spend your folly:
ught in this life sweet
re wise to see't,

melancholy,

Melancholy!

ded arms, and fixed eyes, piercing mortifies,

fastened to the ground, ined up without a sound! ds and pathless groves, pale passion loves!

alks, when all the fowls

housed save bats and owls!

bell, a parting groan!

sounds we feed upon;

ur bones in a still gloomy valley; inty sweet as lovely melancholy. John Fletcher [1579-1625]

N MELANCHOLY

o Lethe, neither twist

ight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; ale forehead to be kissed

, ruby grape of Proserpine; 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.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall

Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globèd peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty-Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight

Veiled Melancholy has her sovereign shrine,

Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine:

His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,

And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

John Keats [1795-1821]

THE RAINY DAY

THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;

Hush! hush! thou trembling lyre,
Silence, ye vocal choir,

And thou, mellifluous lute,

For man soon breathes his last,
And all his hope is past,

And all his music mute.

Then, when the gale is sighing,
And when the leaves are dying,
And when the song is o'er,

O, let us think of those
Whose lives are lost in woes,

Whose cup of grief runs o'er.

Henry Neele [1798-1828]

SORROW

COUNT each affliction, whether light or grave,
God's messenger sent down to thee; do thou
With courtesy receive him; rise and bow;
And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave
Permission first his heavenly feet to lave;
Then lay before him all thou hast; allow
No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow,

Or mar thy hospitality; no wave

Of mortal tumult to obliterate

The soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief should be, Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate;

Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free; Strong to consume small troubles; to commend

Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end.

Aubrey Thomas De Vere [1814-1902]

O TIME! Who know'st a lenient hand to lay
Softest on Sorrow's wound, and slowly thence
(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
The faint pang stealest unperceived away;

Pain

y only hope at last,

3155

n thou hast dried the bitter tear in o'er all my soul held dear, < on every sorrow past, peaceful evening with a smile: rd, at day's departing hour, beam, of the transient shower gh its wings are wet the while:much must that poor heart endure, from thee, and thee alone, a cure! William Lisle Bowles [1762-1850]

GRIEF

ss grief is passionless;

Incredulous of despair,

anguish, through the midnight air

od's throne in loud access

eproach. Full desertness, tries, lieth silent-bare

hing, vertical eye-glare

eavens. Deep-hearted man, express

in silence like to death

umental statue set

h and moveless woe to the dust beneath.

rble eyelids are not wet:

could arise and go.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861]

PAIN

purposeless and gray

hd all its woe, we say,
who in hot hours of pain
e night to come again.

1 men at length set free,
rom our misery,

with foolish, pain-dimmed eyes
and unremembered skies.