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  1. Samuel Taylor Coleridge is the premier poet-critic of modern English tradition, distinguished for the scope and influence of his thinking about literature as much as for his innovative verse. Active in the wake of the French Revolution as a dissenting pamphleteer and lay preacher, he...

  2. Samuel Taylor Coleridge (21 October 1772 – 25 July 1834) was an English poet, Romantic, literary critic and philosopher who, with his friend William Wordsworth, was a founder of the Romantic Movement in England and a member of the Lake Poets. He is probably best known for his poems The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan, as well as ...

  3. 1 de jun. de 2023 · Dejection: An Ode. Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made. Which better far were mute. For lo! the New-moon winter-bright! The coming-on of rain and squally blast. And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast! Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! And still I gaze—and with how blank an eye!

  4. Samuel Taylor Coleridge(1772-1834) Coleridge was the son of a vicar. He was educated at Christ's Hospital, London, where he became friendly with Lamb and Leigh Hunt and went on to Jesus College Cambridge, where he failed to get a degree. In the summer of 1794 Coleridge became friends with the future Poet Laureate Southey, with whom he wrote a ...

  5. And tears take sunshine from thine eyes! Life is but thought: so think I will. That Youth and I are house-mates still. Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve! Where no hope is, life's a warning. That only serves to make us grieve, When we are old: That only serves to make us grieve.

  6. The Pains of Sleep. By Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray. With moving lips or bended knees; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose, In humble trust mine eye-lids close, With reverential resignation.

  7. 31 de may. de 2023 · She listened to the tale divine, And closer still the Babe she pressed; And while she cried, the Babe is mine! The milk rushed faster to her breast: Joy rose within her, like a summer’s morn; Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born. IV. Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, Poor, simple, and of low estate!