Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.

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

My eyes make pictures when they are shut.

Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests.

Language is the armoury of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests.

How well he fell asleepl Like some proud river, widening toward the sea; Calmly and grandly, silently and deep, Life joined eternity.

He holds him with his glittering eye, And listens like a three years' child.

So lonely 't was, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.

Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head, Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.

And thou art long and lank and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand.