Category Archives: Coleridge Samuel Taylor

On Donne’s Poetry by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Posted on September 30, 2017 by

With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots, Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots; Rhyme’s sturdy cripple, fancy’s maze and clue, Wit’s forge and fire-blast, meaning’s press and screw. Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772 — 1834 Advertisements

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Imitated From The Welch by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Posted on September 16, 2017 by

If, while my passion I impart, You deem my words untrue, O place your hand upon my heart — Feel how it throbs for you! Ah no! reject the thoughtless claim In pity of your Lover! That thrilling touch would aid … Continue reading →

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The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Posted on April 6, 2014 by

Part I It is an ancient mariner And he stoppeth one of three. – “By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stoppest thou me? The bridegroom’s doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The … Continue reading →

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Desire by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Posted on March 31, 2013 by

Where true Love burns Desire is Love’s pure flame; It is the reflex of our earthly frame, That takes its meaning from the nobler part, And but translates the language of the heart. Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Fragment 10: The Three Sorts of Friends by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Posted on March 22, 2013 by

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! Samuel … Continue reading →

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Love by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Posted on November 28, 2012 by

Love by Samuel Taylor Coleridge All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o’er again that happy hour, … Continue reading →

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Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Posted on November 27, 2012 by

Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment. In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground … Continue reading →

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