Samuel Taylor Coleridge Poems

  • 151.  
    Up, up! ye dames and lasses gay!
    To the meadows trip away.'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
  • 152.  
    A sunny shaft did I behold,
    From sky to earth it slanted:And poised therein a bird so bold-
  • 153.  

  • 154.  
    Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
    Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee- Both were mine! Life went a-maying
  • 155.  
    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,
  • 156.  
    Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West!
    How many various-fated years have passed,What happy and what mournful hours, since last
  • 157.  
    Notus in fratres animi paterni.
    Hor. Carm. lib.II.2.
  • 158.  
    It may indeed be fantasy when I
    Essay to draw from all created thingsDeep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
  • 159.  
    An Allegory

  • 160.  
    [Addressed to Charles Lamb, of the India House, London]

  • 161.  
    Part I

  • 162.  
    Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
    It hath not been my use to prayWith moving lips or bended knees;
  • 163.  
    A Conversation Poem, April, 1798

  • 164.  
    (Composed at Clevedon, Somersetshire)

  • 165.  
    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-
  • 166.  
    Sermoni propriora.-Hor.

  • 167.  
    With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots,
    Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots;Rhyme's sturdy cripple, fancy's maze and clue,
  • 168.  
    All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
    Whatever stirs this mortal frame,Are all but ministers of Love,
  • 169.  
    In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
    A stately pleasure-dome decree:Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
  • 170.  
    The Frost performs its secret ministry,
    Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cryCame loud, -and hark, again! loud as before.
  • 171.  

  • 172.  
    Written in April 1798, during the alarm of an invasion

  • 173.  
    Sir, I admit your general rule,
    That every poet is a fool,But you yourself may serve to show it,
  • 174.  
    Late, late yestreen I saw the new moon,
    With the old moon in her arms;And I fear, I fear, my master dear!
  • 175.  
    In Kohln, a town of monks and bones,
    And pavements fang'd with murderous stonesAnd rags, and hags, and hideous wenches;
  • 176.  
    PART I

  • 177.  
    Lines composed while climbing the left ascent of Brockley Coomb, May 1795

Total 177 poems written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Poem of the day

Dusk In June
 by Sara Teasdale

Evening, and all the birds
In a chorus of shimmering sound
Are easing their hearts of joy
For miles around.

The air is blue and sweet,
The few first stars are white,-
Oh let me like the birds

Read complete poem

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