Poetry of Coleridge

Samual Taylor Coleridge
born 1772, died 1834

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 when 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 shut one's lids,
And still dreams on.

>> Samual Taylor Coleridge

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