Melancholy is a deep affliction

I have no prescription

For this sadness

This disease of the heart

Washes colour

From the poppy

Causes the flesh 

To shrink from the touch.

Sinks the garden of the heart

Into rot

Here, birds don’t sing,

Silence is on the wing,

The sun hides behind

A cloud of circumstance

Rain comes in bloody drops,

A child suffers

The infirmities of age.

No swain seduces

No shepherdess

But on the morrow

Loving-kindness

Will lift my heart,

Enliven my soul,

With all the shy

Beauty of creation.