Samuel Taylor Coleridge — Anna and Harland

Within these wilds was Anna wont to rove        &nbspWhile Harland told his love in many a sigh,        &nbspBut stern on Harland roll'd her brother's eye, They fought, they fell—her brother and her love! To Death's dark house did grief-worn Anna haste,        &nbspYet here her pensive ghost delights to stay;        &nbspOft pouring on the winds the broken lay— And hark, I hear her—'twas the passing blast. I love to sit upon her tomb's dark grass,        &nbspThen Memory backward rolls Time's shadowy tide;        &nbspThe tales of other days before me glide: With eager thought I seize them as they pass; For fair, tho' faint, the forms of Memory gleam, Like Heaven's bright beauteous bow reflected in the stream.