Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I never think of the future--it comes soon enough.

I never think of the future--it comes soon enough.

Ah! replied my gentle fair,
Beloved, what are names but air?
Choose thou, whatever suits the line:
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Ah! replied my gentle fair,
Beloved, what are names but air?
Choose thou, whatever suits the line:
Call me Sappho, call me Chloris,
Call me Lalage, or Doris,
Only, only, call me thine.

Prose, words in their best order. Poetry, the best words in the best order.

Prose, words in their best order. Poetry, the best words in the best order.

He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

The moving moon went up to the sky,
And nowhere did abide;
Softly she was going up,
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The moving moon went up to the sky,
And nowhere did abide;
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside.