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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In The Manner Of Spenser</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O peace, that on a lilied bank dost love<br>To rest thine head beneath an olive tree,<br>I would that from the pinions of thy dove<br>One quill withouten pain yplucked might be!<br>For oh! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee,<br>And faint to her some soothing song would write,<br>Lest she resent my rude discourtesy,<br>Who vowed to meet her ere the morning light,<br>But broke my plighted word -- ah! false and recreant wight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last night as I my weary head did pillow<br>With thoughts of my dissevered fair engrossed,<br>Chill fancy drooped, wreathing herself with willow,<br>As tho' my breast entombed a pining ghost.<br>'From some blest couch, young rapture's bridal boast,<br>Rejected slumber! hither wing thy way;<br>But leave me with the matin hour, at most!'<br>As night-closed floweret to the orient ray,<br>My sad heart will expand, when I the maid survey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Love, who 'heard the silence of my thought,'<br>Contrived a too successful wile, I ween:<br>And whispered to himself, with malice fraught--<br>'Too long our slave the damsel's smiles hath seen:<br>To-morrow shall he ken her altered mien!'<br>He spake, and ambushed lay, till on my bed<br>The morning shot her dewy glances keen,<br>When as I 'gan uplift my drowsy head--<br>'Now, bard! I'll work thee woe!' the laughing elfin said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sleep, softly-breathing god! his downy wing<br>Was fluttering now, as quickly to depart;<br>When twanged an arrow from Love's mystic string,<br>With pathless wound it pierced him to the heart.<br>Was there some magic in the elfin's dart?<br>Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance?<br>For straight so fair a form did upwards start<br>(No fairer deck'd the bowers of old romance)<br>That sleep enamoured grew, nor moved from his sweet trance!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My Sara came, with gentlest look divine;<br>Bright shone her eye, yet tender was its beam<br>I felt the pressure of her lip to mine!<br>Whisp'ring we went, and love was all our theme--<br>Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem,<br>He sprang from heaven! Such joys with sleep did 'bide<br>That I the living image of my dream<br>Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sighed -- <br>'O! how shall I behold my love at even-tide!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Samuel+Taylor+Coleridge">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512772" data-title="In The Manner Of Spenser de Samuel Taylor Coleridge" data-description="O peace, that on a lilied bank dost love
To rest thine head beneath an olive tree,
I would that from the pinions of thy dove
One quill withouten pain yplucked might be!
For oh! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee,
And faint to her some soothing song w..."></div>
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