Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Remorse is as the heart in which it grows;
If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews
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Remorse is as the heart in which it grows;
If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews
Of true repentance; but if proud and gloomy,
It is the poison tree, that pierced to the inmost,
Weeps only tears of poison.

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

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

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.

He holds him with his glittering eye--
. . . .
And listens like a three years' read more

He holds him with his glittering eye--
. . . .
And listens like a three years' child.

O! lady, we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone doth nature live;
Ours read more

O! lady, we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone doth nature live;
Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!