Youth and Age / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,

Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee - 

Both were mine! Life went a-maying

With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,

When I was young!

When I was young? -Ah, woeful When!

Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then!

This breathing house not built with hands,

This body that does me grievous wrong,

Work Without Hope / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair - 

The bees are stirring -birds are on the wing - 

And Winter slumbering in the open air,

Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!

And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,

Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

To the Rev. George Coleridge / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

A blesséd lot hath he, who having passed

His youth and early manhood in the stir

And turmoil of the world, retreats at length,

With cares that move, not agitate the heart,

To the same dwelling where his father dwelt;

And haply views his tottering little ones

Embrace those agéd knees and climb that lap,

On which first kneeling his own infancy

Lisp'd its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest Friend!

To Nature / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

It may indeed be fantasy when I

Essay to draw from all created things

Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;

And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie

Lessons of love and earnest piety.

So let it be; and if the wide world rings

In mock of this belief, it brings

Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.

Time, Real and Imaginary / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

An Allegory

On the wide level of a mountain's head,

(I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place)

Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails outspread,

Two lovely children run an endless race,

A sister and a brother!

This far outstripped the other;

Yet ever runs she with reverted face,

And looks and listens for the boy behind:

This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison / Samuel Taylor 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 edge,

Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,

To that still roaring dell, of which I told;

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Argument:

How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country.

Part I

It is an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three.

`By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The Pains of Sleep / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,

It hath not been my use to pray

With moving lips or bended knees;

But silently, by slow degrees,

My spirit I to Love compose,

In humble trust mine eyelids close,

With reverential resignation,

No wish conceived, no thought expressed,

The Nightingale / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

No cloud, no relique of the sunken day

Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip

Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.

Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!

You see the glimmer of the stream beneath,

But hear no murmuring: it flows silently.

O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still.

The Eolian Harp / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined

Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is

To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o'ergrown

With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle,

(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)

And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light,

Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve

Serenely brilliant (such should Wisdom be)

Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents

Snatch'd from yon bean-field! and the world is hushed!

The stilly murmur of the distant Sea

Tells us of silence.

The Dungeon / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And this place our forefathers made for man!

This is the process of our love and wisdom,

To each poor brother who offends against us - 

Most innocent, perhaps -and what if guilty?

Is this the only cure? Merciful God!

Each pore and natural outlet shrivelled up

By Ignorance and parching Poverty,

His energies roll back upon his heart,

Sonnet: To the River Otter / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West!

How many various-fated years have passed,

What happy and what mournful hours, since last

I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,

Numbering its light leaps! Yet so deep impressed

Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes

I never shut amid the sunny ray,

Reflections on Having Left a Place of Retirement / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Low was our pretty Cot; our tallest Rose

Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear

At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,

The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air

Our Myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch

Thick Jasmins twined: the little landscape round

Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.

On Donne's Poetry / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots,

Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots;

Rhyme's sturdy cripple, fancy's maze and clue,

Wit's forge and fire-blast, meaning's press and screw.

Love / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

All thoughts, all passions, all delights,

Whatever stirs this mortal frame,

Are all but ministers of Love,

And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I

Live o'er again that happy hour,

When midway on the mount I lay

Beside the ruined tower.

Kubla Khan / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Frost at Midnight / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Frost performs its secret ministry,

Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry

Came loud, -and hark, again! loud as before.

The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,

Have left me to that solitude, which suits

Abstruser musings: save that at my side

My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.

France: an Ode / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I

Ye clouds! that far above me float and pause,

Whose pathless march no mortal may control!

Ye Ocean-Waves! that, whereso'er ye roll,

Yield homage only to eternal laws!

Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing,

Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined,

Save when your own imperious branches swinging,

Have made a solemn music of the wind!

Fears in Solitude / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

A green and silent spot, amid the hills,

A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place

No singing skylark ever poised himself.

The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,

Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,

All golden with the never-bloomless furze,

Which now blooms most profusely: but the dell,

Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate

As vernal cornfield, or the unripe flax,

When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,

Epitaph / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Stop, Christian passer-by!--Stop, child of God,

And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod

A poet lies, or that which once seemed he.--

O, lift one thought in prayer for S.T.C.;

That he who many a year with toil of breath

Found death in life, may here find life in death!

Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame

He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ.

Do thou the same!