To A Young Lady. On Her Recovery From A Fever by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Why need I say, Louisa dear! How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fear, And feverish heat incessant. The sunny showers, the dappled sky, The little birds that warble high, Their vernal loves commencing, Will better welcome you than I With their sweet influencing. […]
Written In Early Youth. The Time,–An Autumnal Evening by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
O thou wild fancy, check thy wing! No more Those thin white flakes, those purple clouds explore! Nor there with happy spirits speed thy light Bathed in rich amber-glowing floods of light; Nor in yon gleam, where slow descends the day, With western peasants hail the morning ray! Ah! rather bid the perished pleasures move, […]
Fire, Famine, And Slaughter : A War Eclogue by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The Scene a desolate Tract in la Vendee. Famine is discovered lying on the ground; to her enter Fire and Slaughter. Fam. Sister! sisters! who sent you here? Slau. [to Fire.] I will whisper it in her ear. Fire. No! no! no! Spirits hear what spirits tell: ‘Twill make a holiday in Hell. No! no! […]
Fancy In Nubibus, Or The Poet In The Clouds by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
O! it is pleasant with a heart at ease, Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies, To make the shifting clouds be what you please, Or let the easily persuaded eyes Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould Of a friend’s fancy; or with head bent low And cheek aslant see rivers flow of […]
Epitaph On An Infant. by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Its balmy lips the infant blest Relaxing from its mother’s breast, How sweet it heaves the happy sigh Of innocent satiety! And such my infant’s latest sigh! Oh tell, rude stone! the passer by, That here the pretty babe doth lie, Death sang to sleep with Lullaby. ————— The End And that’s the End of […]
To A Young Lady. On Her Recovery From A Fever by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Why need I say, Louisa dear! How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fear, And feverish heat incessant. The sunny showers, the dappled sky, The little birds that warble high, Their vernal loves commencing, Will better welcome you than I With their sweet influencing. […]
Written In Early Youth. The Time,–An Autumnal Evening by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
O thou wild fancy, check thy wing! No more Those thin white flakes, those purple clouds explore! Nor there with happy spirits speed thy light Bathed in rich amber-glowing floods of light; Nor in yon gleam, where slow descends the day, With western peasants hail the morning ray! Ah! rather bid the perished pleasures move, […]
The Lime-tree Bower my Prison by Samuel Coleridge
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when age Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top […]
Psyche by Samuel Coleridge
The butterfly the ancient Grecians made The soul’s fair emblem, and its only name– But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade Of mortal life !–For in this earthly frame Ours is the reptile’s lot, much toil, much blame, Manifold motions making little speed, And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed. ————— […]
Brockley Coomb by Samuel Coleridge
Lines composed while climbing the left ascent of Brockley Coomb, May 1795 With many a pause and oft reverted eye I climb the Coomb’s ascent: sweet songsters near Warble in shade their wild-wood melody: Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear. Up scour the startling stragglers of the flock That on green plots o’er […]