Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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.

All Nature seems at work, slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
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All Nature seems at work, slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
And Winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth,
And constancy lives in read more

Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth,
And constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny, and youth is vain;
And to be wrothe with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain.

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us.

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us.

'Tis the merry nightingale
That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
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'Tis the merry nightingale
That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
As he were fearful that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music!