A FIT OF THE BLUES.
Y deep cerulean eyes are full of tears,
And bluely burns my melancholy
taper:
How dimly every azure line appears
To be imprinted on my bluish
paper.
My casement opens on the blue,
blue sky,
The cobalt of the dawn already lightens
The outer east—and yet small joy have I,
That Luna fades and that Aurora brightens.
Oh that the morning light could bring for me
One hour amidst the blue-bells and the heather!—
One hour of sojourn on the wide blue sea,
In crystal calmness or in stormy weather!
Oh that the "freshness of the heart" could fall
Once more upon my spirit, and could kindly
Bring back again the days when first of all
I read my Blue Beard and believed it blindly!
One cure there is for all the ills that make
Existence duller than a blue-book's pages:—
A strong blue-pill is just the thing to take
For indigestion in the early stages.