The title is from John Milton's long Il Penseroso poem about the contemplative side of life. An excerpt: ...The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that Heav'n doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew; Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain. These pleasures, Melancholy, give, And I with thee will choose to live.