Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THROUGH MELANCHOLY, by PAUL FORT


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THROUGH MELANCHOLY, by                    
First Line: When in forest depths I hear the mourning of the mere, red with the
Last Line: World . . . 'tis I.
Subject(s): Death; Forests; Grief; Soul; Dead, The; Woods; Sorrow; Sadness


When in forest depths I hear the mourning of the mere, red with the eve that
fades,

with piercing rushes full rising above the pool, like a heart transfixed with
blades,

I say: ah! who would come far from his native home, seduced by love's false
dream,

who could with heart unbowed enter this gloomy wood without a pain extreme?

Yet someone's drawing near. 'Neath the alder-grove I hear a man in the shadows
trail

dolorous tarn, towards thee! He is in extremity, phantom rancourless and pale.

Call, pool of forests dim, pool where the wild ducks swim, man and night come
tardily

toward thy surface so morose where the tawny pinion glows of the sunset slow to
die . . .

The stag bellows wearily, and suddenly doth flee, a dog howls in the distant
plain.

The owl, in the underwood, shivers, eyes closed, and toward the rising moon doth
sigh.

Welcome, O dolorous pool, this being sorrowful who comes to drown his pain

nor could with careless mien enter this gloomy wood were he not in woe supreme,

did not Death his soul invite, through melancholy's blight, to forsake this
world . . . 'tis I.





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