Poems of Coleridge by Unknown
page 112 of 262 (42%)
page 112 of 262 (42%)
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To hear the Sabbath-bell,
'Tis sweet to hear them both at once, Deep in a woody dell. His limbs along the moss, his head Upon a mossy heap, With shut-up senses, Edward lay: That brook e'en on a working day Might chatter one to sleep. And he had passed a restless night, And was not well in health; The women sat down by his side, And talked as 'twere by stealth. "The Sun peeps through the close thick leaves, See, dearest Ellen! see! 'Tis in the leaves, a little sun, No bigger than your ee; "A tiny sun, and it has got A perfect glory too; Ten thousand threads and hairs of light, Make up a glory gay and bright Round that small orb, so blue." And then they argued of those rays, What colour they might be; Says this, "They're mostly green"; says that, "They're amber-like to me." |
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