Poems by Hartley Coleridge With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes |
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XIII. | XIII. |
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XXX. |
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Poems by Hartley Coleridge | ||
17
XIII.
Too true it is, my time of power was spentIn idly watering weeds of casual growth,—
That wasted energy to desperate sloth
Declined, and fond self-seeking discontent,—
That the huge debt for all that nature lent
I sought to cancel,—and was nothing loth
To deem myself an outlaw, sever'd both
From duty and from hope,—yea, blindly sent
Without an errand, where I would to stray:—
Too true it is, that, knowing now my state,
I weakly mourn the sin I ought to hate,
Nor love the law I yet would fain obey:
But true it is, above all law and fate
Is Faith, abiding the appointed day.
Poems by Hartley Coleridge | ||