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Album The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Vol I

To a Young Friend on his proposing by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

To a Young Friend on his proposing Annotated

A mount, not wearisome and bare and steep,
&nbspBut a green mountain variously up-piled,
Where o'er the jutting rocks soft mosses creep,
Or colour'd lichens with slow oozing weep;
&nbspWhere cypress and the darker yew start wild;
And, 'mid the summer torrent's gentle dash
Dance brighten'd the red clusters of the ash;
&nbspBeneath whose boughs, by those still sounds beguil'd,
Calm Pensiveness might muse herself to sleep;
&nbspTill haply startled by some fleecy dam,
&nbspThat rustling on the bushy cliff above
With melancholy bleat of anxious love,
&nbspMade meek enquiry for her wandering lamb:
&nbspSuch a green mountain 'twere most sweet to climb,
E'en while the bosom ach'd with loneliness—
How more than sweet, if some dear friend should bless
&nbspThe adventurous toil, and up the path sublime
Now lead, now follow: the glad landscape round,
Wide and more wide, increasing without bound!

&nbspO then 'twere loveliest sympathy, to mark
The berries of the half-uprooted ash
Dripping and bright; and list the torrent's dash,—
&nbspBeneath the cypress, or the yew more dark,
Seated at ease, on some smooth mossy rock;
In social silence now, and now to unlock
The treasur'd heart; arm linked in friendly arm,
Save if the one, his muse's witching charm
Muttering brow-bent, at unwatch'd distance lag;
&nbspTill high o'er head his beckoning friend appears,
And from the forehead of the topmost crag
&nbspShouts eagerly: for haply there uprears
That shadowing Pine its old romantic limbs,
&nbspWhich latest shall detain the enamour'd sight
Seen from below, when eve the valley dims,
&nbspTinged yellow with the rich departing light;
&nbspAnd haply, bason'd in some unsunn'd cleft,
A beauteous spring, the rock's collected tears,
Sleeps shelter'd there, scarce wrinkled by the gale!
&nbspTogether thus, the world's vain turmoil left,
Stretch'd on the crag, and shadow'd by the pine,
&nbspAnd bending o'er the clear delicious fount,
Ah! dearest youth! it were a lot divine
To cheat our noons in moralising mood,
While west-winds fann'd our temples toil-bedew'd:
&nbspThen downwards slope, oft pausing, from the mount,
To some lone mansion, in some woody dale,
Where smiling with blue eye, Domestic Bliss
Gives this the Husband's, that the Brother's kiss!

Thus rudely vers'd in allegoric lore,
&nbspThe Hill of Knowledge I essayed to trace;
That verdurous hill with many a resting-place,
And many a stream, whose warbling waters pour
&nbspTo glad, and fertilise the subject plains;
That hill with secret springs, and nooks untrod,
And many a fancy-blest and holy sod
&nbspWhere Inspiration, his diviner strains
Low-murmuring, lay; and starting from the rock's
Stiff evergreens, (whose spreading foliage mocks
Want's barren soil, and the bleak frosts of age,
And Bigotry's mad fire-invoking rage!)
O meek retiring spirit! we will climb,
Cheering and cheered, this lovely hill sublime;
&nbspAnd from the stirring world up-lifted high
(Whose noises, faintly wafted on the wind,
To quiet musings shall attune the mind,
&nbspAnd oft the melancholy theme supply),
&nbspThere, while the prospect through the gazing eye
&nbspPours all its healthful greenness on the soul,
We'll smile at wealth, and learn to smile at fame,
Our hopes, our knowledge, and our joys the same,
&nbspAs neighbouring fountains image each the whole:
Then when the mind hath drunk its fill of truth
&nbspWe'll discipline the heart to pure delight,
Rekindling sober joy's domestic flame.
They whom I love shall love thee, honour'd youth!
&nbspNow may Heaven realise this vision bright!

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