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Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,
The wisdom that I learn'd so ill in this
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ?
A DAY-DREAM. COLERIDGE is remarkable for the suggestive character of his compositions. He not only conveys his own beautiful and profound thoughts to the reader, but makes the reader think for himself and create new thoughts of his own. This is remarkably seen in the following:My eyes make pictures when they're shut:
I see a fountain large and fair, A willow and a ruin'd hut,
And thee, and me, and Mary there, O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow! Bend o'er us like a bower, my beautiful green willow ! A wild rose roofs the ruin'd shed,
And that and summer well agree; And lo! where Mary leans her head,
Two dear names carved upon the tree ! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow : Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow. 'Twas day! But now, few, large and bright,
The stars are round the crescent moon ! And now it is a dark, warm night,
The balmiest of the month of June. A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet
For dearly, Nora! love I thee!
This depth of tranquil bliss-ah, me!
By the still-dancing fire-flames made;
And now they melt to one deep shade!
When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,
Alas, that love should be a blight and snare
Which crush'd and wither'd mine, that could not be Aught but a lifeless clog, until revived by thee.
Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart
From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung
No more alone through the world's wilderness,
And cherish'd friends turn with the multitude
Now has descended a serener hour,
And these delights, and thou, have been to me
And what art thou? I ke per ser
And through thine eyes, even is. tu ovla
They say that thou wert lovet fruk int
One voice came forth frok, lase in that can can
Like thunder-BUI VOKAS Skogu av to a gente
Truth's deathless pans a Da
But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee :
Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play;
'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow! But let me check this tender lay
Which none may hear but she and thou !
THE FOREST CHILD.
As ever bless'd a waking eye;
Beneath a summer sky.
Of an old Elm-a hoary tree ;
Went dancing in its glee
Went dancing on the livelong day,
Through flickering scenes of light and shade ;
And with the flowerets played.
With mingled thoughts of joy and pain ;
To childhood's sunny plain.
The tangled hazel boughs divide-
Is standing at my side!
As roses droop with too much dew,
The rose's crimson hue.
Around its brow a coronal
Of fairest leaves and buds entwine; And on its lip a thousand gems
Lie fresh from Nature's mine.
'Tis wearied out with summer play:
The sparkling wreath aside is flung-
A child, as bright and young !
And years bring change, and blight, and woeAnd they who come the latest here
Are of the first to go.
Is sleeping in a quiet tomb,
The churchyard with its gloom. The crimson blush of dappled dawn
Wakes all sweet things in bower and brake, The bird, the flower, the lamb, the fawn
But she may never wake.
Yet often in the summer time
I sit beside the hoary tree, And love to watch the little rill
Go dancing in its glee.
And when a small bird breaks away
From its dim nook of shrouding leaves, My startled spirit owns the spell
That subtle fancy weaves ;
And then I see, or seem to see,
Between the blossom'd branches wild, Come stealing in with silent step,
The solitary child !