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Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

What If You Slept...

What if you slept
And what if
In your sleep
You dreamed
And what if
In your dream
You went to heaven
And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower
And what if
When you awoke
You had that flower in you hand
Ah, what then?

Other works by Samuel Taylor Coleridge...
Sonnet XIX. to a Friend, Who Asked How I Felt When the Nurse First Presented my Infant to Me

Charles! my slow heart was only sa… I scanned that face of feeble infa… For dimly on my thoughtful spirit… All I had been, and all my babe m… But when I saw it on its Mother’s…
Reason

... Finally, what is Reason? You… answer:— Whene’er the mist, that stands 'tw… [Sublimates] to a pure transparenc… That intercepts no light and adds…
Melancholy. a Fragment.

Stretched on a mouldered Abbey’s… Where ruining ivies propped the ru… Her folded arms wrapping her tatte… Had Melancholy mused herself to s… The fern was pressed beneath her h…
The Two Founts. Stanzas Addressed to a Lady on Her Recovery, With Unblemished Looks, From a Severe Attack of Pain

'Twas my last waking thought, how… That thou, sweet friend, such angu… When straight from Dreamland came… Could tell the cause, forsooth, an… Methought he fronted me with peeri…
Sonnet VIII. to Mercy

Not always should the tear’s ambro… Roll its soft anguish down thy fur… Not always heaven-breathed tones o… Beseem thee, Mercy! Yon dark Sco… Who with proud words of dear-loved…
In the Manner of Spenser

O peace, that on a lilied bank dos… To rest thine head beneath an oliv… I would that from the pinions of t… One quill withouten pain yplucked… For oh! I wish my Sara’s frowns t…
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…
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…
Hexameters

William, my teacher, my friend! de… Smooth out the folds of my letter,… Place it on table or desk ; and yo… Gently sustain them in air, and ex… Rest it a moment on each of the fo…
The Virgin’s Cradle

Dormi, Jesu! Mater ridet Quae tam dulcem somnum videt, Dormi, Jesu! blandule! Si non dormis, Mater plorat, Inter fila cantans orat,
Sonnet XIII. to La Fayette

As when far off the warbled strain… That soar on Morning’s wing the v… Within his cage th’ imprisoned mat… Swells the full chorus with a gene… He bathes no pinion in the dewy li…
To a Young Lady. on Her Recovery From a Fever

Why need I say, Louisa dear! How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fea… And feverish heat incessant.
To a Friend Who Had Declared His Intention of Writing No More Poetry

Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wer… That Genius plunged thee in that… High Castalie: and (sureties of t… That Pity and Simplicity stood by… And promised for thee that thou sh…
Come, Come Thou Bleak December Wind (Fragment)

Come, come thou bleak December wi… And blow the dry leaves from the t… Flash, like a Love-thought, thro’… And take a Life that wearies me.
Sonnet XVI. to Earl Stanhope

Not, Stanhope! with the Patriot’s… I mock thy worth—Friend of the hu… Since scorning Faction’s low and… Aloof thou wendest in thy stately… Thyself redeeming from that leprou…



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