Melancholly
Read 'Melancholly' by 'William Strode' and provide your summary and literary analysis in the comments section below.
Hence, hence, all you vaine delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly:
Ther's nought in this life sweete,
If men were wise to see'te
But only Melancholly:
O sweetest Melancholly!
Welcome folded armes and fixed eyes,
A sigh that piercing mortifies,
A looke that's fastned to the ground,
A tongue chayned upp without a sound.
Fountains heads, and pathlesse groves,
Places which pale Passion loves:
Moonlike wakes, when all the Fowles
Are warmly housde, save Batts and Owles:
A midnight knell: a parting groane:
These are the sounds wee feede upon.
Then, stretch your bones in a still gloomy vally,
Ther's nothing daynty, sweete, save Melancholly
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
