argentius

A slightly longer version of the Poe montage that amuses me so much:

For, being an idle boy lang syne
Who read Anacreon, and drank wine
I early found Anacreon rhymes
Were almost passionate sometimes
And by some strange alchemy of brain
His pleasures always turn'd to pain
His naivete to wild desire
His wit to love -- his wine to fire
And so, being young and dipt in folly
I fell in love with melancholy ...

But NOW my soul hath too much room
Gone are the glory and the gloom
The black hath mellowed into grey
And all the fires are fading away
My draught of passion hath been deep
I revell'd, and I now would sleep...

An idle longing night and day
To dream my very life away.

But dreams -- of those who dream as I
Aspiringly, are damned, and die:
Yet I should swear, I mean alone,
By notes so very shrilly blown,
To break upon Time's monotone.