Come, Melancholy

Come, Melancholy, come Delight:

Let’s croak of misery, like a frog.

Let us pretend the window’s shut

For the cat, and a door for the dog.

Let us pretend that every door’s

Made fast, to all except the Bee-

Who finds a key hole every time,

And passes in without a key.

Let us pretend that life’s a babe

All wrapped in clay, with pins of ice,

Without a nurse to tuck it in,

Or soothe it with a softer voice.

And when we have imagined these,

Refusing peace, and scorning mirth-

We’ll light our pipes and blow a smoke

That  casts a halo on our birth!