Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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

Samuel Taylor Coleridge Poems

161. Youth And Age 5/14/2001
162. This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison 5/14/2001
163. The Exchange 1/1/2004
164. A Mathematical Problem 3/31/2010
165. The Eolian Harp 1/13/2003
166. Limbo 5/14/2001
167. Cologne 5/14/2001
168. A Child's Evening Prayer 3/31/2010
169. Aeolian Harp, The 12/31/2002
170. Love 5/14/2001
171. Fragment 5/14/2001
172. What Is Life? 5/14/2001
173. Answer To A Child's Question 3/31/2010
174. The Faded Flower 12/31/2002
175. Despair 5/14/2001
176. Desire 5/14/2001
177. A Soliloquy Of The Full Moon, She Being In A Mad Passion 5/14/2001
178. Life 12/31/2002
179. Work Without Hope 5/14/2001
180. A Tombless Epitaph 5/14/2001
181. Human Life 5/14/2001
182. Christabel 1/13/2003
183. Dejection: An Ode 5/14/2001
184. A Day Dream 3/31/2010
185. Frost At Midnight 5/14/2001
186. Rime Of The Ancient Mariner 12/31/2002
187. The Good, Great Man 12/31/2002
188. About The Nightingale 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

    5 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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