Old melancholic poetry

[obliviousatbest]

My soul was mantled with dark shadows, born
Of lonely Fear, disquieted in vain;
Its phantoms hung around the star of morn,
A cloud-like weeping train;
Through the long day they dimm'd the autumn gold
On all the glistening leaves; and wildly roll'd,
When the last farewell flush of light was glowing
Across the sunset sky;
O'er its rich isles of vaporous glory throwing
One melancholy dye.
- Despondency and Aspiration by Felicia Hemans, d.1835

Wanted to share this verse here; antiquated depressive poetry soothes the deep weariness in me lol surely I'm not the only one that finds a tiny sense of peace in this crafted, timeless display of suffering.

 

[art]

What a great idea @obliviousatbest , I'd like sharing this one by Emily Dickinson

HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.