Given to many varying emotions
of thoughts and of notions.
Like the storm clouds that swept,
over him the melancholia has crept .

Head hung low, eyes gray and downcast
This has come before, before it did not last
in his heart, on his mind, the pain
Gloom descends on him like winter rain.

Wisdom has told him why
this is not the time to cry.
Even though depressions deep
the soul has not time to weep.

Than like clouds that disperse 
 Slowly ever like a curse,
Remedies, of good times return
melancholia slowly, surely to spurn.