Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe,
O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear!
To plunder’d Want’s half-shelter’d hovel go,
Go, and some hunger-bitten infant hear
Moan haply in a dying mother’s ear:
Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood
O’er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves strew’d,
Pace round some widow’s grave, whose dearer part
Was slaughter’d, where o’er his uncoffin’d limbs
The flocking flesh-birds scream’d! Then, while thy heart
Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims,
Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind)
What Nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal!
O abject! if, to sickly dreams resign’d,
All effortless thou leave Life’s common-weal
A prey to Tyrants, Murderers of Mankind.
Addressed To A Young Man Of Fortune Who Abandoned Himself To An Indolent And Causeless Melancholy
Did you enjoy the the artible “Addressed To A Young Man Of Fortune Who Abandoned Himself To An Indolent And Causeless Melancholy” from Samuel Taylor Coleridge on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply