Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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

Samuel Taylor Coleridge Poems

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

  • lolgay (12/1/2018 6:58:00 AM)

    pretty depressed lets be real

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

    His life sounded miserable, sad, and very difficult

  • 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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