Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Melancholy. A Fragment
Stretch'd on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest wall,
       &nbspWhere ruining ivies propp'd the ruins steep—
Her folded arms wrapping her tatter'd pall,
       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspHad Melancholy mus'd herself to sleep.
       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspThe fern was press'd beneath her hair,
       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspThe dark green Adder's Tongue was there;
And still as pass'd the flagging sea-gale weak,
The long lank leaf bow'd fluttering o'er her cheek.

       &nbspThat pallid cheek was flush'd: her eager look
Beam'd eloquent in slumber! Inly wrought,
       &nbspImperfect sounds her moving lips forsook,
And her bent forehead work'd with troubled thought.
       &nbspStrange was the dream——