Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[Samuel Coleridge] (1772-1834 / Devon / England)

Samuel Taylor Coleridge Poems

161. Aeolian Harp, The 12/31/2002
162. Youth And Age 5/14/2001
163. A Tombless Epitaph 5/14/2001
164. Epitaph 5/14/2001
165. A Mathematical Problem 3/31/2010
166. Life 12/31/2002
167. To William Wordsworth 5/14/2001
168. A Broken Friendship 12/9/2014
169. To Nature 1/13/2003
170. Answer To A Child's Question 3/31/2010
171. Cologne 5/14/2001
172. What If You Slept ... 3/31/2010
173. What Is Life? 5/14/2001
174. A Soliloquy Of The Full Moon, She Being In A Mad Passion 5/14/2001
175. Dejection: An Ode 5/14/2001
176. About The Nightingale 5/14/2001
177. To A Friend, With An Unfinished Poem 3/31/2010
178. Christabel 1/13/2003
179. A Child's Evening Prayer 3/31/2010
180. Limbo 5/14/2001
181. Rime Of The Ancient Mariner 12/31/2002
182. Work Without Hope 5/14/2001
183. A Day Dream 3/31/2010
184. Despair 5/14/2001
185. Love 5/14/2001
186. Desire 5/14/2001
187. The Good, Great Man 12/31/2002
188. Frost At Midnight 5/14/2001
189. Fears In Solitude 5/14/2001
190. The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner 5/14/2001
191. The Suicide's Argument 5/14/2001
192. Kubla Khan 5/14/2001

Comments about Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  • Stephanie carlson (2/27/2018 12:42:00 PM)

    His life sounded miserable, sad, and very difficult

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Ling Poon (11/15/2013 9:41:00 AM)

    his life was miserable

Best Poem of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Kubla Khan

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er ...

Read the full of Kubla Khan

Love

All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruined tower.

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