You might have accidentally been correct with the word "withered" if LC is taken in light of this little poem from W B Yeats.
The Coming of Wisdom with Time
Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.
cf "You lose your grip / And then you slip / Into the mystery." "A Thousand Kisses Deep" (L Cohen)
The first noble truth of Buddhism is that all life is sorrowful. Everybody knows no one gets out of here alive, after all. LC does not dodge nor escape reality, but if that alone makes him depressing, we must have some folks commenting who love escapism more than the truth. In fact he's a pretty fun guy for a Jewish poet the first generation after the death camps. There is such a thing as tragic joy. "Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc / As she came riding through the dark." Doug Saum