Fragment 3: Come, come thou bleak December wind
Fragment 3: Come, come thou bleak December wind
Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!
Flash, like a Love-thought, thro' me, Death
And take a Life that wearies me.
Miscellany
Other poems by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (read randomly)
I know 'tis but a Dream, yet feel more anguish
Than if 'twere Truth. It has been often so:
Must I die under it? Is no one near?
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.
