While my young cheek retains its healthful hues,
And I have many friends who hold me dear;
L----! methinks, I would not often hear
Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose
All memory of the wrongs and sore distress,
For which my miserable brethren weep!
But should uncomforted misfortunes steep
My daily bread in tears and bitterness;
And if at death's dread moment I should lie,
With no beloved face at my bed-side,
To fix the last glance of my closing-eye,
Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angel-guide,
Would make me pass the cup of anguish by,
Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died!
More verses by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- On A Connubial Rupture In High Life
- Tell's Birth-Place. Imitated From Stolberg
- Sonnet Xi. To Sheridan
- Sonnet Xiii. To La Fayette
- The Alienated Mistress; A Madrigal. (From An Unfinished Melodrama)