Poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Imitated from the Welsh

If, while my passion I impart,
You deem my words untrue,
O place your hand upon my heart,
Feel how it throbs for you!

Ah no! reject the thoughtless claim
In pity to your lover!
That thrilling touch would aid the flame
It wishes to discover. 

1. Lines
2. Fancy in Nubibus, Or the Poet in the Clouds
3. Brockley Coomb
4. Lines Written after a Walk before Supper
5. On a Connubial Rupture in High Life

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