Oh
doom and gloom,
Born
without a silver spoon,
When
will you let the lovely light flood the solemn seas
And
at what time will the rain no longer torrent the wilting trees?
When
will the birds incessant singing stop,
And
return to the grace of the natural clock?
Can
you imagine a mind free from sorrow,
Or
a heart as free as the paths of tomorrow?
Oh
grey in May,
Who
equally abhors each day,
When
will the winds of wrath subside for goodness sake
And
at what time will the high tides dissipate to form luscious lakes?
How
long will you stop the flowers from bloom,
And
return the madness from the mourning moon?
Can
you conceive a life without misery,
Or
a vivacious body not struck by melancholy?
Ellese
Elliott
