Never till this day Did life disturb the dense eternity Of joyless quiet; never skylark's song, Or storm-bird's prescient scream, or eaglet's cry, Made vital the gross fog. The very light Is but an alien that can find no welcome Hartley Coleridge More Quotes by Hartley Coleridge More Quotes From Hartley Coleridge Her very frowns are fairer far Hartley Coleridge maidens love life If we take care of the inches, we will not have to worry about the miles. Hartley Coleridge care worry time The merry year is born Like the bright berry from the naked thorn. Hartley Coleridge old-year new-year years The beauty of the picture is an abiding concrete of the painter's vision. Hartley Coleridge concrete abiding vision Long time a child, and still a child, when years Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I; For yet I lived like one not born to die; A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears— No hope I needed, and I knew no fears. But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep—and waking, I waked to sleep no more; at once o'ertaking The vanguard of my age, with all arrears Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man, Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is gray, For I have lost the race I never ran. A rathe December blights my lagging May: And still I am a child, though I be old Time is my debtor for my days untold. Hartley Coleridge sleep sweet children The soul of man is larger than the sky, Hartley Coleridge ocean dark men Where'er ye sojourn, and whatever names Ye are or shall be called; fairies, or sylphs, Nymphs of the wood or mountain, flood or field: Live ye in peace, and long may ye be free To follow your good minds. Hartley Coleridge nymphs names long On this hapless earth There 's small sincerity of mirth, And laughter oft is but an art To drown the outcry of the heart. Hartley Coleridge mirth laughter art Man is more than half of nature's treasure. Hartley Coleridge treasure half men Be not afraid to pray--to pray is right. Hartley Coleridge sick light prayer Valor and power may gain a lasting memory, but where are they when the brave and mighty are departed? Their effects may remain, but they live not in them any more than the fire in the work of the potter. Hartley Coleridge brave fire memories But what is Freedom? Rightly understood, A universal licence to be good. Hartley Coleridge be-good liberty wisdom Is love a fancy, or a feeling? Hartley Coleridge fancy feelings Commemoration of Brooke Foss Westcott, Bishop of Durham, Teacher, 1901 Be not afraid to pray... to pray is right. Pray if thou canst with hope; but ever pray Though hope be weak, or sick with long delay. Whatever is good to wish, ask that of heaven; But if for any wish thou darest not pray, Then pray to God to cast that wish away. Hartley Coleridge sick teacher long Twere better far That gods should quaff their nectar merrily, And men sing out the day like grasshoppers, So may they haply lull the watchful thunder. Hartley Coleridge thunder may men Oh, where is man That mortal god, that hath no mortal kin Or like on earth? Shall Nature's orator The interpreter of all her mystic strains Shall he be mute in Nature's jubilee? Hartley Coleridge jubilee earth men Thou breeze, That mak'st an organ of the mighty sea, Obedient to thy wilful phantasies, Provoke him not to scorn; but soft and low, As pious maid awakes her aged sire, On tiptoe stealing, whisper in his ear The tidings of the young god's victory. Hartley Coleridge victory ears sea With all your music, loud and lustily, With every dainty joy of sight and smell, Prepare a banquet meet to entertain The Lord of Thunder, that hath set you free From old oppression. Hartley Coleridge smell sight joy Go your way. Forget Prometheus, And all the woe that he is doom'd to bear; By his own choice this vile estate preferring To ignorant bliss and unfelt slavery. Hartley Coleridge ignorant slavery choices Now shall I become a common tale, A ruin'd fragment of a worn-out world; Unchanging record of unceasing change. Eternal landmark to the tide of time. Swift generations, that forget each other, Shall still keep up the memory of my shame Till I am grown an unbelieved fable. Hartley Coleridge records generations memories
