Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And so, his senses gradually wrapt
In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds,
And dreaming read more

And so, his senses gradually wrapt
In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds,
And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark;
That singest like an angel in the clouds.

O sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise read more

O sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven
That slid into my soul.

Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons read more

Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests.

The saints will aid if men will call:
For the blue sky bends over all.

The saints will aid if men will call:
For the blue sky bends over all.

A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping read more

A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.