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Poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


The Complaint of Ninathoma


How long will ye round me be swelling,
O ye blue-tumbling waves of the sea?
Not always in caves was my dwelling,
Nor beneath the cold blast of the tree.
Thro' the high-sounding halls of Cathlóma
In the steps of my beauty I stray'd;
The warriors beheld Ninathóma,
And they blessèd the white-bosomed maid!
A ghost! by my cavern it darted!
In moon-beams the spirit was drest--
For lovely appear the departed
When they visit the dreams of my rest!
But disturbed by the tempest's commotion
Fleet the shadowy forms of delight--
Ah, cease, thou shrill blast of the ocean!
To howl through my cavern by night. 



Samuel Taylor Coleridge


Samuel Taylor Coleridge's other poems:
  1. Lines
  2. The Suicide's Argument
  3. Cologne
  4. The Exchange
  5. Ode to Tranquillity


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