 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
11
IX.
How many meanings may a single sighHeave from the bosom; early, yet too late,
I learn'd with sighs to audit mine estate,
While yet I deem'd my hope was only shy
And wishing to be woo'd. Fain to descry
The little cloud I thought could never vex
My vernal season, I would still perplex
With sighs the counsel of my destiny.
Still it moved on, and ever larger grew,
And still I sigh'd and sigh'd—and then I panted;
For now the cloud is huge, and close to view.
It burst; the thunder roar'd, the sharp rain slanted,
The tempest pass'd, and I was almost fain
To sigh forlorn, and hear the sigh again.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |