I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.
This is a verse from the selected poems of S.T. Coleridge
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Saturday, November 26, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Love the Squadron of Poets 5
'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Love the Squadron of Poets 4
She half inclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Love the Squadron of Poets 3
Her bosom heaved- she stepped aside,
As conscious of my look she stept-
Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.
As conscious of my look she stept-
Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Love
She wept with pity and delight,
She blushed with love, and virgin shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.
She blushed with love, and virgin shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Love
All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes and fears that kindle hope,
An indistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long!
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes and fears that kindle hope,
An indistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long!
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Love
And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land;--
And how she wept, and clasped his knees;
And how she tended him in vain--
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain;--
And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay;--
His dying words- but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity!
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land;--
And how she wept, and clasped his knees;
And how she tended him in vain--
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain;--
And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay;--
His dying words- but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity!
Monday, November 07, 2005
Love the Squadron of Poets 2
But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,--
There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Friend,
This miserable Knight!
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,--
There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Friend,
This miserable Knight!
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Love
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face!
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face!
Friday, November 04, 2005
Love the Squadron of Poets
I told her how he pined: and ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own.
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Love
I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land!
Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land!
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