I like how azure sounds: the ah, the z like a soft g, a zh, maybe, /ˈæʒɚ/ or /ˈeɪʒɚ/ if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t mean anything to me–I just copied & pasted it so you would all think I’m smart.) French lilt, the sound of the waves, a light hiss that relaxes blue. Between blue and cyan, according to the color wheel; a Windows cloud storage system, to my chagrin.
I don’t think of the word azure as particularly melancholy (another favorite word!) but the bulk of the poetry I found with the word “azure” in it had a sad if not bitter tone. Here’s one I like, though…
AN AZURE STAR
by Hiren Mukherjee
I was the sentinel of the sky,
Looking at the sky adorned with
Clouds, stars, nebulas,
I used to sing for myself.
I was twenty or something then.
One day, clouds on which stars used to ride, were
Crushed to minute grains, the azure star
Was snatched by the hand of a stranger.
Truer than the sky became my dread,
Callused words became more virtuous than love.
Now at my forties,
I look at the injured rose in my hand,
I try to recall,
I will always be the scribe of your melody,
Within me, there is euphoria of an azure star.