Melancholy By Charles Swain

Under the cypress shade
Near the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy;
All voices weary now—
All pleasures tire her;
Love cannot charm her brow—
Music inspire her!
No, ‘neath the cypress shade,
By the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy.
Still in the stars she reads
Sorrow and parting;
Still on the future feeds—
Drinks the tears starting:
Come, list the music light—
See, fairies tripping!
Gay nymphs o’er garlands bright
Sporting and skipping!—
No, ‘neath the cypress shade
Near the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy.