Come, Melancholy, come, Delight: Let's croak of misery, like a frog. Let us pretend the window's shut For the cat, and a door for the dog. Let us pretend that every door's Made fast, to all except the Bee – Who finds a keyhole every time, And passes in without a key. Let us pretend that Life's a babe All wrapt in clay, with pins of ice, Without a nurse to tuck it in, Or sooth it with a softer voice. And when we have imagined these, Refusing peace, and scorning mirth – We'll light our pipes and blow a smoke That casts a halo on our birth! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRANSFIGURATION by LOUISA MAY ALCOTT DESCRIPTIONS by VIRGINIA A. ALLIN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 37. TO ONE WHO WOULD 'REMAIN FRIENDS' by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT MILLICENT by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES ASOLANDO: THE LADY AND THE PAINTER by ROBERT BROWNING |