Poem

 Away, Melancholy by Stevie Smith

Away, melancholy, 

Away with it, let it go. 

Are not the trees green, 

The earth as green? 

Does not the wind blow, 

Fire leap and the rivers flow? 

Away melancholy.

 The ant is busy                         

He carrieth his meat, 

All things hurry 

To be eaten or eat. 

Away, melancholy.

Man, too, hurries, 

Eats, couples, buries, 

He is an animal also 

With a hey ho melancholy, 

Away with it, let it go.