Samuel Taylor Coleridge Poems
Monody On The Death Of Chatterton When faint and sad o'er sorrow's desert wild
Slow journeys onward poor misfortune's child; When fades each lovely form by fancy drest,
The Moon, How Definite Its Orb! (fragment) The Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze-- 'Tis there indeed,--but where is it not?--
Pains Of Sleep, The Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
It hath not been my use to pray
With moving lips or bended knees ;
The Blossing Of The Solitary Date-tree Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun the mountain peaks are the Thrones of
Frost, through the absence of objects to reflect the rays. `What no one
with us shares, seems scarce our own.' The presence of a ONE,
To A Lady, With Falconer's 'shipwreck' Oh! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams
In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice;
Nor while half-listening, mid delicious dreams,
Sonnet Ix. To Priestley Tho' roused by that dark Visir riot rude
Have driven our Priestly o'er the ocean swell;
Tho' Superstition and her wolfish brood
The Aeolian Harp 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
Ode To The Departing Year I.
Spirit who sweepest the wild harp of Time!
It is most hard, with an untroubled ear
Song Tho' veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath,
Love is a sword that cuts its sheath,
And thro' the clefts, itself has made,
What Is An Epigram? What is an Epigram? A dwarfish whole,
Its body brevity, and wit its soul.
Imitated From Ossian The stream with languid murmur creeps,
In Lumin's flowery vale:
Beneath the dew the Lily weeps
A Child's Evening Prayer Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
God grant me grace my prayers to say:
O God! preserve my mother dear
Lines Written After A Walk Before Supper Tho' much averse, dear Jack, to flicker,
To find a likeness for friend V----ker,
I've made, thro' earth, and air, and sea,
To Asra Are there two things, of all which men possess,
That are so like each other and so near,
As mutual Love seems like to Happiness?
The Night-scene : A Dramatic Fragment. Sandoval. You loved the daughter of Don Manrique?
Earl Henry. Loved?
Sandoval. Did you not say you wooed her?
A Mathematical Problem This is now--this was erst,
Proposition the first--and Problem the first.
Human Life If dead, we cease to be ; if total gloom
Swallow up life's brief flash for aye, we fare
As summer-gusts, of sudden birth and doom,
The Sigh I.
When youth his fairy reign began,
Ere sorrow had proclaimed me man;
A Day Dream My eyes make pictures when they're shut:--
I see a fountain large and fair,
A Willow and a ruined Hut,
The Netherlands (fragment) Water and windmills, greenness, Islets green;--
Willows whose Trunks beside the shadows stood Of their own higher half, and willowy swamp:--
The Devil's Thoughts From his brimstone bed at break of day
A walking the DEVIL is gone,
To visit his little snug farm of the earth
Sonnet To the River Otter
Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West!
Lewti, Or The Circassian Love-chaunt At midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
The Garden Of Boccaccio [exerpt]
Of late, in one of those most weary hours,
When life seems emptied of all genial powers,
Love's Apparition And Evanishment: An Allegoric Romance Like a lone Arab, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind, Who sits beside a ruin'd well,
To An Infant Ah cease thy tears and sobs, my little life!
I did but snatch away the unclasped knife:
Some safer toy will soon arrest thine eye,
Metrical Feet Trochee trips from long to short;
From long to long in solemn sort Slow Spondee stalks, strong foot!, yet ill able
A Broken Friendship Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And constancy lives in realms above;
Constancy To An Ideal Object Since all, that beat about in Nature's range,
Or veer or vanish ; why should'st thou remain
The only constant in a world of change,
Sonnet Vi. Pale Roamer thro' the Night! thou poor forlorn!
Remorse that man on his death-bed possess,
Who in the credulous hour of tenderness
The Complaint Of Ninathoma How long will ye round me be swelling,
O ye blue-tumbling waves of the sea?
Not always in caves was my dwelling,
Something Childish, But Very Natural If I had but two little wings
And were a little feathery bird,
To you I'd fly, my dear!
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;
On A Ruined House In A Romantic Country And this reft house is that the which he built,
Lamented Jack ! And here his malt he pil'd,
Cautious in vain ! These rats that squeak so wild,
Phantom All look and likeness caught from earth
All accident of kin and birth,
Had pass'd away. There was no trace
Sonnet Xiii. To La Fayette As when far off the warbled strains are heard
That soar on Morning's wing the vales among,
Within his cage th' imprisoned matin bird
Epitaph On An Infant Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care; The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
To William Wordsworth Friend of the Wise ! and Teacher of the Good !
Into my heart have I received that Lay
More than historic, that prophetic Lay
Sonnet Xviii. To The Autumnal Moon Mild Splendor of the various-vested Night!
Mother of wildly-working visions! hail!
I watch thy gliding, while with watery light
To An Unfortunate Woman At The Theatre Maiden, that with sullen brow
Sitt'st behind those virgins gay,
Like a scorched and mildew'd bough,
Thicker Than Rain-drops On November Thorn (fragment) Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn.
Sonnet Vii. To Burke As late I lay in Slumber's shadowy vale,
With wetted cheek and in a mourner's guise,
I saw the sainted form of FREEDOM rise:
Tell's Birth-place. Imitated From Stolberg I.
Mark this holy chapel well!
The birth-place, this, of William Tell.
Imitated From The Welsh If, while my passion I impart,
You deem my words untrue, O place your hand upon my heart,
Hymn Before Sun-rise, In The Vale Of Chamouni Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC,
Suicide's Argument, The }
As Some Vast Tropic Tree, Itself A Wood (fragment) }
Genevieve Maid of my love! sweet Genevieve!
In beauty's light you glide along; Your eye is like the star of eve,
Fancy In Nubibus, Or The Poet In The Clouds 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,
The Keepsake The tedded hay, the first-fruits of the soil,
The tedded hay and corn-sheaves in one field,Show summer gone, ere come. The foxglove tall
Total 177 poems written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge