Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Сэмюэл Тэйлор Кольридж)

Something Childish, But Very Natural

If I had but two little wings
And were a little feathery bird,
To you I'd fly, my dear!
But thoughts like these are idle things,
And I stay here.

But in my sleep to you I fly:
I'm always with you in my sleep!
The world is all one's own.
But then one wakes, and where am I?
All, all alone.

Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids:
So I love to wake ere break of day:
For though my sleep be gone,
Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids,
And still dreams on. 

1. Home-Sick. Written In Germany
2. To the Autumnal Moon
3. Duty Surviving Self-Love, the Only Sure Friend of Declining Life
4. To a Lady, Offended by a Sportive Observation That Women Have No Souls
5. The Picture, Or The Lover's Resolution

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