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Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Ode To Sara, In Answer To A Letter From BristolSamuel Taylor Coleridge - Ode To Sara, In Answer To A Letter From Bristol
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Nor travels my meand`ring eye The starry wilderness on high;     Nor now with curious sight I mark the glow-worm as I pass, Move with `green radiance` thro` the grass,     An emerald of light. O ever-present to my view! My wafted spirit is with you,     And soothes your boding fears; I see you all opprest with gloom Sit lonely in that cheerless room--     Ah me! you are in tears! Belovèd woman! did you fly Chilled friendship`s dark disliking eye     Or mirth`s untimely din? With cruel weight these trifles press A temper sore with tenderness,     When aches the void within. But why with sable wand unblest Should fancy rouse within my breast     Dim-visaged shapes of dread? Untenanting its beauteous clay, My Sara`s soul has winged its way,     And hovers round my head! I felt it prompt the tender dream, When, slowly sunk the day`s last gleam,     You roused each gentler sense; As sighing o`er the blossom`s bloom Meek evening wakes its soft perfume     With viewless influence. And hark, my love! The sea-breeze moans Thro` yon reft house! O`er rolling stones,     With broad impetuous sweep, The fast encroaching tides supply The silence of the cloudless sky     With mimic thunders deep. Dark-redd`ning from the channel`d isle (Where stands one solitary pile     Unslated by the blast) The watchfire, like a sullen star, Twinkles to many a dozing star,     Rude-cradled on the mast. Ev`n there -- beneath that light-house tower-- In the tumultuous evil hour     Ere peace with Sara came, Time was, I should have thought it sweet To count the echoings of my feet,     And watch the troubled flame. And there in black soul-jaundiced fit A sad gloom-pampered man to sit,     And listen to the roar, When mountain surges, bellowing deep, With an uncouth monster leap     Plunged foaming on the shore. Then by the lightning`s blaze to mark, Some toiling tempest-shattered bark,     Her vain distress-guns hear: And when a second-sheet of light Flashed o`er the blackness of the night --     To see no vessel there! But fancy now more gayly sings; Or if awhile she droop her wings,     As skylark`s `mid the corn, On summer fields she grounds her breast: Th` oblivious poppy o`er her nest,     Nods, till returning morn. O mark those smiling tears, that swell The opened rose!  From heaven they fell,     And with the sunbeam blend; Blessed visitations from above: Such are the tender woes of love     Fost`ring the heart they bend! When stormy midnight howling round Beats on our roof with clatt`ring sound,     To me your arms you`ll stretch: Great God! you`ll say -- To us so kind, O shelter from this loud bleak wind     The houseless, friendless wretch! The tears that tremble down your cheek, Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek     In pity`s dew divine; And from your heart the sighs that steal Shall make your rising bosom feel     The answ`ring swell of mine! How oft, my love! with shapings sweet I paint the monument we shall meet!     With eager speed I dart-- I seize you in the vacant air, And fancy, with a husband`s care,     I press you to my heart!
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