The Lime-Tree Bower My Prison
In this pleasant, shady bower,
Where I lie, as in a dream,
I feel the sun through the leaves,
Like a golden glow, a gleam.
I hear the birds sing merrily,
The gentle whisper of the breeze;
I sense the world outside this bower,
A scene of nature, poised to please.
But I am here in solitude,
Cut off from nature’s tender grace,
Yet here my mind can wander free,
To distant lands, and time, and space.
Nightingale
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
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 Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but go;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
‘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?
In the high seas and the vast ocean blue,
The Mariner roamed with a crew;
But fate cast a shadow that darkened their fate,
Led by the albatross, and death did await.
Frost at Midnight
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet’s cry
Came loud, and hark, again! Another, and
Another! I am sure that you are there.
So much to share in this silence, my little babe.
Dejection: An Ode
O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does nature live:
Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud!
And would we ought behold, other than sleep
We must perceive, when Nature pays her due,
With living states and forms; but must we know
How much we owe into the heavenly fountain?
The Prelude of 1798
The boundless sea, the roaring storm,
The ship tossed on its waves alone;
The winds that shake the trees have hearts to mourn,
For the lost love above in its sapphire throne.
To Nature
I love thee, O Nature!
In the silence of thine azure dome,
I find solace, I find a home;
In every flower, in every tree,
In the flowing brook and the singing bee.
The Eolian Harp
My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined
Thus on my hand, so innocent and fair;
The sigh of your lips, inviting and kind,
Serenades the stillness, the breeze in your hair
Awakens the world in a symphony rare.
On the Same Theme
As summer dieth in the mellow limes,
The sunset strokes the distant hills with fire,
And lightly slips away as soft night climbs
To wrap the world from sight; we’re all inspired
To breathe, and think, reflect on beauty that compiles.
To a Young Ass
As I sat musing in the pastoral wilds,
A young ass stood beside me, free and mild:
His eyes like putty, soft and full of glee,
Spake to my heart as nature does to me.
This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison
Well, they were gone, and here I sit,
The landscape wide, the trees carved me grace,
And yet, my spirit’s in communion with
Your laughter, your shouts, I miss your face!
The Pains of Sleep
In the deep slumber, my soul took flight,
Wrapped in a dream, beneath the moon,
Thy angel’s visit was none too slight,
A nature spirit like the sweet perfume.
Christabel
‘Tis midnight, and no one near,
Yet through the trees, the whisper clear:
The spirit of the moon, so fair and bright,
Calls to the stars to dance, in the night.
A Day’s Journey
A day’s journey, to rest my soul
In fields where the wildflowers grow;
Where the sunflowers sway and play their role,
And the river flows with a timeless flow.
This is Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s gift to us: An eternal bond with nature, within each rhyme,
Where his heart views the world outside our door,
In verdant realms, and picturesque time.
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge