Samuel Taylor Coleridge — Imitations: Ad Lyram

The solemn-breathing air is ended—        &nbspCease, O Lyre! thy kindred lay! From the poplar-branch suspended        &nbspGlitter to the eye of Day! On thy wires hov'ring, dying,        &nbspSoftly sighs the summer wind: I will slumber, careless lying,        &nbspBy yon waterfall reclin'd. In the forest hollow-roaring        &nbspHark! I hear a deep'ning sound— Clouds rise thick with heavy low'ring!        &nbspSee! th' horizon blackens round! Parent of the soothing measure,        &nbspLet me seize thy wetted string! Swiftly flies the flatterer, Pleasure,        &nbspHeadlong, ever on the wing.