Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Red as a rose is she.

The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?

No mind is thoroughly well-organized that is deficient in a sense of humor.

A sight to dream of, not to tell!

The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside.

All Nature seems at work.
Slugs leave their lair -
The bees are stirring - birds are on the wing -
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

The nightmare Life-in-Death was she.

Pity is best taught by fellowship in woe.

He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small.

That saints will aid if men will call; For the blue sky bends over all!