HONOUR aright the philosophic thought, That they who, by the trouble of the brain Or heart, for usual life are overwrought, Hither should come to discipline their pain. A single convent on a shoaly plain Of waters never changing their dull face But by the sparkles of thick-falling rain Or lines of puny waves, -- such is the place. Strong medicine enters by the ear and eye; That low unaltering dash against the wall May lull the angriest dream to vacancy; And Melancholy, finding nothing strange, For her poor self to jar upon at all, Frees her sad-centred thoughts, and gives them pleasant range. |