Though friendships differ endless in degree ,
The sorts , methinks, may be reduced to three.
Ac quaintance many, and Con quaintance few;
But for In quaintance I know only two--
The friend I've mourned with, and the maid I woo!
More verses by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- Song
- Fancy In Nubibus, Or The Poet In The Clouds
- Domestic Peace
- I Know 'Tis But A Dream, Yet Feel More Anguish (Fragment)
- The Sigh