Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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!

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

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

A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.

A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.

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.

The knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;
His soul is with the saints, I read more

The knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;
His soul is with the saints, I trust.