Fragment 4: As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood
Fragment 4: As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood
As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood,
That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood
Feeds its deep roots, and with the bulging flank
Of its wide base controls the fronting bank,
(By the slant current's pressure scoop'd away
The fronting bank becomes a foam-piled bay)
High in the Fork the uncouth Idol knits
His channel'd Brows; low murmurs stir by fits
And dark below the horrid Faquir sits;
An Horror from its broad Head's branchy wreath
Broods o'er the rude Idolatry beneath—
Miscellany
Other poems by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (read randomly)
Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!
Flash, like a Love-thought, thro' me, Death
As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood,
That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood …
Feeds its deep roots, and with the bulging flank
Whom should I choose for my Judge? the earnest, imp …
Who, in the work, forgets me and the world and hims …
Ye who have eyes to detect,...
The Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze—
'Tis there indeed,—but where is it not?—
When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt—
A Flight of Hopes for ever on the wing
But made Tranquillity a conscious Thing—
Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn.
Water and windmills, greenness, Islets green;—
Willows whose Trunks beside the shadows stood
Of their own higher half, and willowy swamp:—
Though friendships differ endless in degree ,
The sorts , methinks, may be reduced to three.
Ac quaintance many, and Con quaintance few;
