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Melancholy Poems Page #1,144

Welcome to our collection of poems about melancholy! The feeling of melancholy is a complex emotion that has long inspired poets to create some of the most beautiful and haunting verses. Our collection brings together a range of poems that explore the depths of this emotional state, from the pain of lost love to the ache of nostalgia. These poems capture the essence of melancholy through their evocative language and vivid imagery, inviting readers to embrace their own feelings of sadness and introspection. Whether you're seeking solace or simply appreciating the beauty of language, our collection offers a powerful exploration of the human condition. So come and immerse yourself in the rich and complex world of melancholy through the power of poetry.

Displaying 28,954 poems from the Melancholy genre.

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Writers Block — Joe Strickland	I sit at my desk, cigarette burning Flies buzz around me, they're learning I drink cheap whiskey, feeling old Everything around me, just seems to fold ...	9 views Rate it
Writing — Charles Bukowski	it is the only thing between you and impossibility. no drink, no woman's love, no wealth can match it. nothing can save you except writing. it keeps...	114 views Rate it
Writing down my thoughts — Jesse D. Black	I write down my thoughts as a way of releasing them from my mind! My way of letting the world into my sadness! I hold in me a deep hurt i try to explain...	2 views Rate it
Written A Year After The Events — Charles Lamb	Alas! how am I chang'd! Where be the tears, The sobs, and forc'd suspensions of the breath, And all the dull desertions of the heart, With which I hung...	49 views Rate it
Written After Leaving Her At New Burns — William Cowper	How quick the change from joy to woe! How chequered is our lot below! Seldom we view the prospect fair, Dark clouds of sorrow, pain, and care, (Some...	90 views Rate it
Written After Swimming from Sestos to Abydos — George Gordon Lord Byron	If, in the month of dark December, Leander, who was nightly wont (What maid will not the tale remember?) To cross thy stream, broad...	230 views Rate it
Written Afterwards — Henry Lawson	So the days of my tramping are over, And the days of my riding are done— I’m about as content as a rover Will ever be under the sun; I write, after...	29 views Rate it
Written at Florence — Wilfrid Scawen Blunt	O WORLD, in very truth thou art too young; When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age? World, with thy covering of yellow flowers, Hast thou forgot...	55 views Rate it
Written At Sea — Wilfrid Scawen Blunt	What is my quarrel with thee, beautiful sea, That thus I cannot love thy waves or thee, Or hear thy voice but it tormenteth...	86 views Rate it
Written at the Request of a Gentleman to Whom a Lady Had Given a Sprig of Myrtle — Samuel Johnson	What hopes - what terrors does this gift create? Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate. The myrtle (ensign of supreme command Consign'd to Venus by Melissa's...	122 views Rate it
Written Christmas Day 1797 — Charles Lamb	I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone! Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend, Companion, sister, help-mate, counsellor! Alas! that honour'd mind,...	130 views Rate it
Written For A Gentlewoman In Distress, To Her Grace Adelida, Dutchess Of Shrewsbury. — Mary Barber	Might I inquire the Reasons of my Fate, Or with my Maker dare expostulate; Did I, in prosp'rous Days, despise the Poor, Or drive the friendless Stranger...	110 views Rate it
Written for my Son ... at his First Putting on Breeches — Mary Barber	WHAT is it our mamma's bewitches, To plague us little boys with breeches ? To tyrant Custom we must yield, Whilst vanquish'd Reason flies the...	38 views Rate it
Written For My Son In His Sickness, To One Of His School fellows. — Mary Barber	I little thought that honest Dick Would slight me so, when I was sick. Is he a Friend, who only stays, Whilst Health and Pleasure gild our Days; Flies,...	49 views Rate it
Written For My Son, Upon Lady Santry's Coming To School, To See Her Son, And Getting The Scholars A Play--Day. — Mary Barber	So Ceres, lovely and divine, Eager to see her Proserpine, Blessing the Nations as she pass'd, Reach'd the fell Tyrant's Court at last; Around her shot a...	403 views Rate it
Written From Dublin, To A Lady In The Country. — Mary Barber	A wretch, in smoaky Dublin pent, Who rarely sees the Firmament, You graciously invite, to view The Sun's enliv'ning Rays with you; To change the Town for...	85 views Rate it
Written In A Blank Leaf Of Macpherson's Ossian — William Wordsworth	OFT have I caught, upon a fitful breeze, Fragments of far-off melodies, With ear not coveting the whole, A part so charmed the pensive soul. While a dark...	70 views Rate it
Written In A Fit Of Illness. R. S. S. — William Cowper	In these sad hours, a prey to ceaseless pain, While feverish pulses leap in every vein, When each faint breath the last short effort seems Of life just...	69 views Rate it
Written In A Quarrel — William Cowper	Think, Delia, with what cruel haste Our fleeting pleasures move, Nor heedless in sorrow waste The moments due to...	121 views Rate it
Written In A Young Lady's Album — Friedrich Schiller	Sweet friend, the world, like some fair infant blessed, Radiant with sportive grace, around thee plays; Yet 'tis not as depicted in thy breast-- Not as...	33 views Rate it
Written In Aid Of The Leicester Lunatic Asylum. — Henry Alford	Light ye the torch,-- The torch that hath expired; The light with which was fired Chamber and hall and porch: But now the house is dark, Its inmates rove...	34 views Rate it
Written In Australia — Arthur Henry Adams	THE WIDE sun stares without a cloud: Whipped by his glances truculent The earth lies quivering and cowed. My heart is hot with discontent: ...	65 views Rate it
Written in Early Spring — William Wordsworth	I heard a thousand blended notes While in a grove I sat reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the...	99 views Rate it
Written In Early Youth. The Time,--An Autumnal Evening — Samuel Taylor Coleridge	O thou wild fancy, check thy wing! No more Those thin white flakes, those purple clouds explore! Nor there with happy spirits speed thy light Bathed in...	111 views Rate it
Written in Germany, On One of The Coldest Days Of The Century — William Wordsworth	A plague on your languages, German and Norse! Let me have the song of the kettle; And the tongs and the poker, instead of that horse That gallops away...	98 views Rate it

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