Hartley Coleridge (1796-1849)


When we were idlers with the loitering rills,
The need of human love we little noted:
	Our love was nature; and the peace that floated
On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills,
To sweet accord subdued our wayward wills:
	One soul was ours, one mind, one heart devoted,
	That, wisely doting, ask'd not why it doted,
And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills.
But now I find how dear thou wert to me;
	That man is more than half of nature's treasure,
Of that fair beauty which no eye can see,
	Of that sweet music which no ear can measure;
	And now the streams may sing for others' pleasure,
The hills sleep on in their eternity.

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Os poemas estão no public domain. Construção do local © 2003 Éamon Mag Uidhir