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. Lines Written after a Walk before Supper
3. On a Ruined House in a Romantic Country
4. The Happy Husband
5. The Nose

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