54808: Melancholy

<p dir="ltr"> The rain and wind, the rain and wind, raved endlessly.<br> On me the Summer storm, and fever, and melancholy<br> Wrought magic, so that if I feared the solitude<br> Far more I feared all company: too sharp, too rude,<br> Had been the wisest or the dearest human voice.<br> What I desired I knew not, but whate'er my choice<br> Vain it must be, I knew. Yet naught did my despair<br> But sweeten the strange sweetness, while through the wild air<br> All day long I heard a distant cuckoo calling<br> And, soft as dulcimers, sounds of near water falling,<br> And, softer, and remote as if in history,<br> Rumours of what had touched my friends, my foes, or me.<br></p>