To Melancholy-Written On An intensely agitated Day

O ‘melancholy, hectic chill for human’s soul,
Herewith dismal presence any spirit does descent
Unto dreams of tranquil,restful, yet in gloom-ful
Moist,and sometimes of aweful views we went.

Enigmatic woven waves are those deary curls,
Which traverse with each mystery loom us,we bent,
Where life is low fram’d and fled amid wild the whirls,
And the dull’d eyes meet with a strange weary haunt.

Oft When Somber shadows veil the human laughter,
And Lowly made depression its doom above us sink,
From agonal mind with grief that drive’s and batter
mark’d by the sails of lonely hours that steep to think

Aye,diseased and fright our being; longing for an ease
Joy with last flash seen,while it floats and fades to ill,
For ne’er cured from the shaft that ruin,yet did we pause
Midst  yearning for love,a feathery bird to shrill.

Here weak, fainte’d ,mourn like an unholy mad spirit,
Behalf the life’s unique loss that binds with many more,
The mind that  fret’s with its tomb,bleakly dispirit
Laments the world, it’s fate when decayed future’s bare


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