Poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Humility the Mother of Charity

Frail creatures are we all! To be the best,
Is but the fewest faults to have:—
Look thou then to thyself, and leave the rest
To God, thy conscience, and the grave.

1. Lines
2. Lines Composed in a Concert-Room
3. To a Friend, with an Unfinished Poem
4. To an Unfortunate Woman at the Theatre
5. Inscription for a Fountain on a Heath

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