Ode on Melancholy  14442

  • Poem
  • by
  • first line (public domain):
    No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
         Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
    Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
         By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
    Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
         Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
              Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
    A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
         For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
              And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
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Locations in Harold's Library

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