Ode on Melancholy
Use Tab to move through poem lines. Press Enter or Space to select a line. Hold Shift while selecting a second line to create a shared range.
- No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
- Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
- Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
- By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
- Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
- Nor let the beetle, or 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.
- II
- 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 hills 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 globed 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.
- III
- 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:
- Aye, in the very temple of Delight
- Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran 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.
Selected passage
Choose a line range to generate a quote card.
Quote card preview