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Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Imitated From the Welsh

If, while my passion I impart,
You deem my words untrue,
O place your hand upon my heart,
Feel how it throbs for you!
 
Ah no! reject the thoughtless claim
In pity to your lover!
That thrilling touch would aid the flame
It wishes to discover.

Other works by Samuel Taylor Coleridge...
To Sara

One kiss, dear maid! I said and s… Your scorn the little boon denied. Ah why refuse the blameless bliss? Can danger lurk within a kiss? Yon viewless wand’rer of the vale,
To Asra

Are there two things, of all which… That are so like each other and so… As mutual Love seems like to Happ… Dear Asra, woman beyond utterance… This love which ever welling at my…
Inscription for a Fountain on a Heath

This Sycamore, oft musical with b… Such tents the Patriarchs loved!… May all its agèd boughs o’er—canop… The small round basin, which this… Keeps pure from falling leaves! L…
The Knight's Tomb

Where is the grave of Sir Arthur… Where may the grave of that good m… By the side of a spring, on the br… Under the twigs of a young birch t… The oak that in summer was sweet t…
 1
To a Young Ass, Its Mother Being Tethered Near It

Poor little Foal of an oppressed… I love the languid patience of thy… And oft with gentle hand I give t… And clap thy ragged coat, and pat… But what thy dulled spirits hath d…
The Faded Flower

Ungrateful he, who pluck’d thee fr… Poor faded flow’ret! on his carele… Inhal’d awhile thy odours on his w… Then onward pass’d and left thee t… Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen
To a Friend, With an Unfinished Poem

Thus far my scanty brain hath buil… Elaborate and swelling; ­ yet the… Not owns it. From thy spirit-brea… I ask not now, my friend! the aidi… Tedious to thee, and from thy anxi…
Fragment 10: The Three Sorts of Friends

Though friendships differ endless… The sorts, methinks, may be reduce… Ac quaintance many, and Con quain… But for In quaintance I know only… The friend I’ve mourned with, and…
Lines Written at the King’s

Richer than misers o’er their coun… Nobler than kings, or king-pollute… Here dwelt the man of Ross! O tra… Departed merit claims a reverent t… If 'neath this roof thy wine-cheer…
To a Young Lady, With a Poem on the French Revolution

Much on my early youth I love to… Ere yet I bade that friendly dome… Where first, beneath the echoing c… I heard of guilt and wondered at t… Yet tho’ the hours flew by on care…
Sonnet IX. to Priestley

Tho’ roused by that dark Visir ri… Have driven our Priestly o’er the… Tho’ Superstition and her wolfish… Bay his mild radiance, impotent an… Calm in his halls of Brightness h…
The Devil’s Thoughts

From his brimstone bed at break of… A walking the DEVIL is gone, To visit his little snug farm of t… And see how his stock went on. Over the hill and over the dale,
Sonnet VII. to Burke

As late I lay in Slumber’s shadow… With wetted cheek and in a mourner… I saw the sainted form of FREE… She spake! not sadder moans the au… 'Great Son of Genius! sweet to me…
Sonnet XXII. to Simplicity

O! I do love thee, meek Simplicit… For of thy lays the lulling simple… Goes to my heart, and soothes each… Distress tho’ small, yet haply gre… 'Tis true, on Lady Fortune’s gent…
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…



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