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Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I Know 'Tis But a Dream, Yet Feel More Anguish (Fragment)

I know ‘tis but a Dream, yet feel more anguish
  Than if ’twere Truth. It has been often so:
  Must I die under it? Is no one near?
  Will no one hear these stifled groans and wake me?

Other works by Samuel Taylor Coleridge...
To an Unfortunate Woman, Whom the Author Had Known in the Days of Her Innocence

Myrtle leaf, that ill besped Pinest in the gladsome ray, Soiled beneath the common tread Far from thy protecting spray! When the partridge o’er the sheaf
As Some Vast Tropic Tree, Itself a Wood (Fragment)

As some vast Tropic tree, itself… That crests its Head with clouds,… Feeds its deep roots, and with the… Of its wide base controls the fron… (By the slant current’s pressure s…
Lines to W. L. While He Sang a Song to Purcell’s Music

While my young cheek retains its h… And I have many friends who hold… L——! methinks, I would not often… Such melodies as thine, lest I sh… All memory of the wrongs and sore…
To a Primrose

The first seen in the season Nitens et roboris expers Turget et insolida est: et spe del… —Ovid, Metam. [xv.203]. Thy smiles I note, sweet early Fl…
Sonnet XXI.

Pensive, at eve, on the hard world… And my poor heart was sad: so at t… I gazed—and sighed, and sighed—for… Eve saddens into night! Mine eyes… With tearful vacancy, the dampy gr…
On Donne's Poetry

With Donne, whose muse on dromeda… Wreathe iron pokers into true—love… Rhyme’s sturdy cripple, fancy’s ma… Wit’s forge and fire—blast, meanin…
Christabel

'Tis the middle of night by the ca… And the owls have awakened the cro… Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! And hark, again! the crowing cock, How drowsily it crew.
The Rose

As late each flower that sweetest… I pluck’d, the Garden’s pride! Within the petals of a Rose A sleeping Love I 'spied. Around his brows a beamy wreath
Lewti, Or the Circassian Love

At midnight by the stream I roved… To forget the form I loved. Image of Lewti! from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind. The Moon was high, the moonlight…
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (text of 1834). Part IV

‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner! I fear thy skinny hand! And thou art long, and lank, and b… As is the ribbed sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye…
The Lime

Well, they are gone, and here must… This lime-tree bower my prison! I… Beauties and feelings, such as wou… Most sweet to my remembrance even… Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness!…
Sonnet XVIII. to the Autumnal Moon

Mild Splendor of the various-vest… Mother of wildly-working visions!… I watch thy gliding, while with wa… Thy weak eye glimmers through a fl… And when thou lovest thy pale orb…
Sonnet XV. to Schiller

Schiller! that hour I would have… If thro’ the shudd’ring midnight… From the dark Dungeon of the Towe… That fearful voice, a famished Fa… That in no after moment aught less…
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (text of 1834). Part VI

First Voice ‘But tell me, tell me… Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so f… What is the ocean doing?’ Second Voice ‘Still as a slave be…
The Three Graves. a Fragment of a Sexton’s Tale

The grapes upon the Vicar’s wall Were ripe as ripe could be; And yellow leaves in sun and wind Were falling from the tree. On the hedge-elms in the narrow la…



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