I’ve come to feel
More than I hear,
Sounds that echo
Disquieting fears,
Of memory’s stead,
To suffer imagines
Played in my head,
That come to haunt
Tho long felt dead…
Yet lingers there
In lugubrious tell,
I’m made endure
Alleged indeed
By way of hell,
What so remains
Of minds loth claim,
Held worrying echoes
Of melancholy!
Poetry on a canapé 
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