English poem
Why need I say, Louisa dear!
How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fear, And feverish heat incessant.
The sunny showers, the dappled sky, The little birds that warble high, Their vernal loves commencing, Will better welcome you than I With their sweet influencing.
Believe me, while in bed you lay, Your danger taught us all to pray: You made us grow devouter! Each eye looked up and seemed to say, How can we do without her?
Besides, what vexed us worse, we knew, They have no need of such as you In the place where you were going: This World has angels all too few, And Heaven is overflowing!
March 31, 1798.
More by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- When Youth his faery reign began
- Where graced with many a classic spoil
- Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
- Who Had Declared His Intention Of Writing No More Poetry
- With Fielding'S 'Amelia'[37:1]
- With many a pause and oft reverted eye
- With many a weary step at length I gain
- Within these circling hollies woodbine-clad--