Reflections on Having Left a Place of Retirement

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Sermoni propriora.-Hor.

Low was our pretty Cot; our tallest Rose

Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear

At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,

The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air

Our Myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch

Thick Jasmins twined: the little landscape round

Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.

With wiser feelings: for he paus'd, and look'd

With a pleas'd sadness, and gaz'd all around,

Then eyed our Cottage, and gaz'd round again,

And sigh'd, and said, it was a Blessed Place.

And we were bless'd. Oft with patient ear

Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note

(Viewless, or haply for a moment seen

Gleaming on sunny wings) in whisper'd tones

I've said to my Beloved, 'Such, sweet Girl!

The inobtrusive song of Happiness,

Oh! what a goodly scene! the bleak mount,

The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep;

Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields;

And river, now with bushy rocks o'erbrow'd,

Now winding bright and full, with naked banks;

And seats, and lawns, the Abbey and the wood,

And cots, and hamlets, and faint city-spire;

The Channel, the Islands and white sails,

Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills, and shoreless Ocean-

It seem'd like Omnipresence! God, methought,

Livros Grátis

http://www.livrosgratis.com.br

Milhares de livros grátis para download.

No profan'd my overwhelmed heart.

Blest hour! It was a luxury ,-to be!

Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye

Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from earth:

And he that works me good with unmov'd face,

Does it but half: he chills me while he aids,

My benefactor, not my brother man!

Yet even this, this cold beneficence

Praise, praise it, O my Soul! oft as thou scann'st

The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe!

Who sigh for Wretchedness, yet shun the Wretched,

Nursing in some delicious solitude

My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot!

Thy Jasmin and thy window-peeping Rose,

And Myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air.

And I shall sigh fond wishes-sweet Abode!

Ah!-had none greater! And that all had such!

It might be so-but the time is not yet.

Speed it, O Father! Let thy Kingdom come!

Livros Grátis