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Beautiful ;D
04/27/10(Tue)13:59:51 No. 8628146 No,
no, go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for
its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed By
nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of
yew-berries, Nor let the beetle nor the death-moth be Your
mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's
mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown
the wakeful anguish of the soul. But when the melancholy fit
shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters
the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April
shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow
of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies; Or if
thy mistress some rich anger shows, Imprison her soft hand, and let
her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. She
dwells with Beauty -Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever
at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to
poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veiled
Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose
strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine: His
soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy
trophies hung.