Samuel Taylor Coleridge — Lines to W. L.

While my young cheek retains its healthful hues,        &nbspAnd I have many friends who hold me dear,        &nbspL——! methinks, I would not often hear Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose All memory of the wrongs and sore distress        &nbspFor which my miserable brethren weep!        &nbspBut should uncomforted misfortunes steep My daily bread in tears and bitterness; And if at Death's dread moment I should lie        &nbspWith no belovéd face at my bed-side, To fix the last glance of my closing eye,        &nbspMethinks such strains, breathed by my angel-guide, Would make me pass the cup of anguish by,        &nbspMix with the blest, nor know that I had died!