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Title: Lines Written At Shurton Bars, Near Bridgewater
Author: Samuel Taylor Coleridge [
More Titles by Coleridge]
LINES WRITTEN AT SHURTON BARS, NEAR BRIDGEWATER, SEPTEMBER 1795, IN ANSWER TO
A LETTER FROM BRISTOL
Good verse _most_ good, and bad verse then seems better
Receiv'd from absent friend by way of Letter.
For what so sweet can labour'd lays impart
As one rude rhyme warm from a friendly heart?--ANON.
Nor travels my meandering eye
The starry wilderness on high;
Nor now with curious sight
I mark the glow-worm, as I pass,
Move with 'green radiance' through the grass,
An emerald of light.
O ever present to my view!
My wafted spirit is with you,
And soothes your boding fears:
I see you all oppressed with gloom
Sit lonely in that cheerless room--
Ah me! You are in tears!
Belovéd Woman! did you fly
Chill'd Friendship's dark disliking eye,
Or Mirth's untimely din?
With cruel weight these trifles press
A temper sore with tenderness,
When aches the void within.
But why with sable wand unblessed
Should Fancy rouse within my breast
Dim-visag'd shapes of Dread?
Untenanting its beauteous clay
My Sara's soul has wing'd its way,
And hovers round my head!
I felt it prompt the tender Dream,
When slowly sank the day's last gleam;
You rous'd each gentler sense,
As sighing o'er the Blossom's bloom
Meek Evening wakes its soft perfume
With viewless influence.
And hark, my Love! The sea-breeze moans
Through yon reft house! O'er rolling stones
In bold ambitious sweep
The onward-surging tides supply
The silence of the cloudless sky
With mimic thunders deep.
Dark reddening from the channell'd Isle
(Where stands one solitary pile
Unslated by the blast)
The Watchfire, like a sullen star
Twinkles to many a dozing Tar
Rude cradled on the mast.
Even there--beneath that light-house tower--
In the tumultuous evil hour
Ere Peace with Sara came,
Time was, I should have thought it sweet
To count the echoings of my feet,
And watch the storm-vex'd flame.
And there in black soul-jaundic'd fit
A sad gloom-pamper'd Man to sit,
And listen to the roar:
When mountain surges bellowing deep
With an uncouth monster-leap
Plung'd foaming on the shore.
Then by the lightning's blaze to mark
Some toiling tempest-shatter'd bark;
Her vain distress-guns hear;
And when a second sheet of light
Flash'd o'er the blackness of the night--
To see _no_ vessel there!
But Fancy now more gaily sings;
Or if awhile she droop her wings,
As skylarks 'mid the corn,
On summer fields she grounds her breast:
The oblivious poppy o'er her nest
Nods, till returning morn.
O mark those smiling tears, that swell
The open'd rose! From heaven they fell,
And with the sun-beam blend.
Blest visitations from above,
Such are the tender woes of Love
Fostering the heart they bend!
When stormy Midnight howling round
Beats on our roof with clattering sound,
To me your arms you'll stretch:
Great God! you'll say--To us so kind,
O shelter from this loud bleak wind
The houseless, friendless wretch!
The tears that tremble down your cheek,
Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek
In Pity's dew divine;
And from your heart the sighs that steal
Shall make your rising bosom feel
The answering swell of mine!
How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet
I paint the moment, we shall meet!
With eager speed I dart--
I seize you in the vacant air,
And fancy, with a husband's care
I press you to my heart!
'Tis said, in Summer's evening hour
Flashes the golden-colour'd flower
A fair electric flame:
And so shall flash my love-charg'd eye
When all the heart's big ecstasy
Shoots rapid through the frame!
1795.
[The end]
Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem: Lines Written At Shurton Bars, Near Bridgewater
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