Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MELANCHOLYE, by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Adieu! Al vaine delightes Last Line: Dust and immortall youthe. Alternate Author Name(s): Brown, Isaac Subject(s): Melancholy; Dejection | ||||||||
ADIEU! al vaine delightes Of calm and moonshine nightes; Adieu! al pleasant shade That forests thicke have made; Adieu! al musick swete That little fountaynes poure, When blythe theire waters greete The lovesick lyly-flowre. Adieu! the fragrant smel Of flowres in boskye dell; And all the merrie notes That tril from smal birdes' throates; Adieu! the gladsome lighte Of Day, Morne, Noone, or E'en; And welcome gloomy Nighte, When not one star is seen. Adieu! the deafening noyse Of cities, and the joyes Of Fashioun's sicklie birth; Adieu! al boysterous mirthe, Al pageant, pompe, and state, And every flauntynge thing To which the would-be-great Of earth in madness cling. Come with me, Melancholye, We'll live like eremites holie, In some deepe uncouthe wild Where sunbeame never smylde: Come with me, pale of hue, To some lone silent spot, Where blossom never grewe, Which man hath quite forgot. Come with thy thought-filled eye, That notes no passer by, And drouping solemne head, Where phansyes strange are bred, And saddening thoughts doe brood, Which idly strive to borrow A smyle to vaile thy moode Of heart-abyding sorrow. Come to yon blasted mound Of phantom-haunted ground, Where spirits love to be; And list the moody glee Of night-windes as they moane, And the ocean's sad replye To the wild unhallowed tone Of the wandering sea-bird's cry. There sit with me and keep Vigil when al doe sleepe; And when the curfeu bell Hath rung its mournfull knel, Let us together blend Our mutual sighes and teares, Or chaunt some metre penned, Of the joies of other yeares! Or in cavern hoare and damp, Lit by the glow-worm's lamp, We'll muse on the dull theme Of Life's heart-sickening dreame -- Of Time's resistlesse powre -- Of Hope's deceitful lips -- Of Beauty's short-lived houre -- And Glory's dark eclipse! Or, wouldst thou rather chuse This World's leaf to peruse, Beneath some dripping vault That scornes rude Time's assaulte; Whose close-ribbed arches still Frown in their green old age, And stamp an awfull chill Upon that pregnant page? Yes, thither let us turne, To this Time-shattered urne, And quaintly carved stone -- (Dim wrackes of ages gone;) Here on this mouldering tomb We'll con that noblest truth, The Flesh and Spirit's doome -- Dust and Immortall Youthe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLAD OF THE LADIES OF OLDEN TIMES by FRANCOIS VILLON THE FOUR HUMOURS by RAFAEL CAMPO DEJECTION by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT DEJECTION: AN ODE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE MELANCHOLIA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR JEANIE MORRISON by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL |
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