Stretched on a mouldered Abbey's broadest wall, <br />Where ruining ivies propped the ruins steep-- <br />Her folded arms wrapping her tattered pall, <br />Had Melancholy mused herself to sleep. <br /> <br />The fern was pressed beneath her hair, <br />The dark green adder's tongue was there; <br />And still as past the flagging sea-gale weak, <br />The long lank leaf bowed fluttering o'er her cheek. <br /> <br />That pallid cheek was flushed: her eager look <br />Beamed eloquent in slumber! Inly wrought, <br />Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook, <br />And her bent forehead worked with troubled thought. <br />Strange was the dream-----<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/melancholy-a-fragment/
