Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May read more

Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course?

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course?

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.

For why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut read more

For why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned read more

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.