Maid of my love! sweet Genevieve!
In beauty's light you glide along;
Your eye is like the star of eve,
And sweet your voice, as seraph's song.
Yet not your heavenly beauty gives
This heart with passion soft to glow:
Within your soul a voice there lives!
It bids you hear the tale of woe.
When sinking low the suff'rer wan
Beholds no hand outstretched to save,
Fair, as the bosom of the swan
That rises graceful o'er the wave,
I've seen your breast with pity heave
And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think there is a wide divide between Coleridge's poem and the poetry about love today. I can't feel any of the emotion in this piece, I can only see the beauty of this with my mind. Maybe I'm just having an off day because this man wrote legendary literature