Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Lines 39-46
My genial spirits fail;
And what can these avail
To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?
It were a vain endeavour,
Though I should gaze for ever
On that green light that lingers in the west;
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
- Yes, the speaker's still depressed—just in case you thought he might have magically cheered up between stanzas.
- He wonders what might be out there to lift his usually cheery ("genial") mood.
- What can take the metaphorical weight of depression off his chest?
- He then answers himself: nothing.
- It seems like he can stare forever at the green sky, but it will all be in vain. Nothing's going to turn his frown upside-down.
- Finally, he concludes this stanza with the notion that nothing external ("outward forms") is going to help him (45).
- His problem lies in that same place from which his passion and life spring in metaphorical fountains: himself.
- So, we're guessing a cookie bouquet is out of the question for this guy.