Samuel Taylor Coleridge — To a Lady with Falconers Shipwreck

Ah! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams,        &nbspIn archéd groves, the youthful poet's choice; Nor while half-listening, 'mid delicious dreams,        &nbspTo harp and song from lady's hand and voice; Not yet while gazing in sublimer mood        &nbspOn cliff, or cataract, in Alpine dell; Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strewed.        &nbspFraming wild fancies to the ocean's swell; Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings,        &nbspAnd sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark! Now mounts, now totters on the tempest's wings,        &nbspNow groans, and shivers, the replunging bark! 'Cling to the shrouds!' In vain! The breakers roar—        &nbspDeath shrieks! With two alone of all his clan Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore,        &nbspNo classic roamer, but a shipwrecked man! Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains,        &nbspAnd lit his spirit to so bright a flame? The elevating thought of suffered pains,        &nbspWhich gentle hearts shall mourn; but chief, the name Of gratitude! remembrances of friend,        &nbspOr absent or no more! shades of the Past, Which Love makes substance! Hence to thee I send,        &nbspO dear as long as life and memory last! I send with deep regards of heart and head,        &nbspSweet maid, for friendship formed! this work to thee: And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed        &nbspA tear for Falconer, wilt remember me.