Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.

Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.

Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.

Mark the babe not long accustomed to this breathing world; One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, though yet irrational of soul, to grasp with tiny finger - to let fall a tear; And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, becoming, as might seem. The outward functions of intelligent man.

Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.