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Poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


To the Muse


Tho no bold flights to thee belong;
And tho thy lays with conscious fear,
Shrink from Judgements eye severe,
Yet much I thank thee, Spirit of my song!
For, lovely Muse! thy sweet employ
Exalts my soul, refines my breast,
Gives each pure pleasure keener zest,
And softens sorrow into pensive Joy.
From thee I learnd the wish to bless,
From thee to commune with my heart;
From thee, dear Muse! the gayer part,
To laugh with pity at the crowds that press
Where Fashion flaunts her robes by Folly spun,
Whose hues gay-varying wanton in the sun.



Samuel Taylor Coleridge


Samuel Taylor Coleridge's other poems:
  1. A Lover's Complaint to his Mistress
  2. On The Christening Of A Friend's Child
  3. A Tombless Epitaph
  4. Lines Composed In A Concert-Room
  5. Lines Written After A Walk Before Supper


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