Where Melancholy Lies
Where one would sit upon a most contradictory plateau of mind,
A plinth between the cynic and the optimist,
And embodied deeply in those who know these both
Will you find; our pitied friend, Melancholy.
It is the great grey void in the heart of impossible obsession,
To know both mirth and despair when you gaze and analyse,
A prospect of shimmering gold, only to know it leafed
Thus lies Melancholy; insatiable fiend and treasured possession.
Melancholy, how is it you make it known,
The beauty beheld in and between blue bells or black birds?
Yet you gouge into our visions a gloom and grief,
In knowing such things will timely rot into a ravine of rancid decay.
Melancholy, like are you to the dog with two bones,
You’re many birds to my one stone cast,
And the neutral drones between feuding thoughts,
Unfeasible, but Melancholy, you are me alas.