English poem
Poem 215 (Whate'er he be…)
by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (1861–1907)
Whate'er he be, He is become to me A form of rest. I think his heart is tranquil, from it springs A dreamy watchfulness of tranquil things, And not unblest.
More by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
- Poem 206 (And then you needs must die—ah,…)
- Poem 207 (They sent me naked into the…)
- Poem 208 (Venus but a lady sweet…)
- Poem 210 (The lasting stone would mock thy…)
- Poem 216 (And if God forgave, not when…)
- Poem 218 (Brain on fire and heart aflame…)
- Poem 219 (A boy's delight, a little maiden's…)
- Poem 221 (Over it a golden crown…)