Oh, where is man That mortal god, that hath no mortal kin Or like on earth? Shall Nature's orator The interpreter of all her mystic strains Shall he be mute in Nature's jubilee? — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
If we take care of the inches, we will not have to worry about the miles. — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Now, we are agreed, I and my destinies. The total world, Above, below, whate'er is seen or known, And all that men, and all… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are. — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Commemoration of Brooke Foss Westcott, Bishop of Durham, Teacher, 1901 Be not afraid to pray... to pray is right. Pray if thou canst with… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Where'er ye sojourn, and whatever names Ye are or shall be called; fairies, or sylphs, Nymphs of the wood or mountain, flood or field:… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
With all your music, loud and lustily, With every dainty joy of sight and smell, Prepare a banquet meet to entertain The Lord of… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Long time a child, and still a child, when years Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I; For yet I lived like one… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
The soul of man is larger than the sky, Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark Of the unfathomed center. — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Now shall I become a common tale, A ruin'd fragment of a worn-out world; Unchanging record of unceasing change. Eternal landmark to the tide… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Go your way. Forget Prometheus, And all the woe that he is doom'd to bear; By his own choice this vile estate preferring To… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Be not afraid to pray--to pray is right. Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray, Though hope be weak or sick with… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
The soul of man is larger than the sky, Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark Of the unfathomed centre. — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Never till this day Did life disturb the dense eternity Of joyless quiet; never skylark's song, Or storm-bird's prescient scream, or eaglet's cry, Made… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
Twere better far That gods should quaff their nectar merrily, And men sing out the day like grasshoppers, So may they haply lull the… — Hartley Coleridge Copy Share Image
