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Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Addressed To A Young Man Of Fortune Who Abandoned Himself To An Indolent And Causeless Melancholy
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Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe,
  O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear!
To plunder`d Want`s half-shelter`d hovel go,
  Go, and some hunger-bitten infant hear
  Moan haply in a dying mother`s ear:
Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood
O`er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves strew`d,
Pace round some widow`s grave, whose dearer part
  Was slaughter`d, where o`er his uncoffin`d limbs
The flocking flesh-birds scream`d! Then, while thy heart
  Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims,
Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind)
What Nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal!
  O abject! if, to sickly dreams resign`d,
All effortless thou leave Life`s common-weal
  A prey to Tyrants, Murderers of Mankind.
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