 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
133
I. TO COLERIDGE.
As one who lies, when day is almost done,Rocked in a little boat upon a sea
Whose glassy billows heave eternally
Albeit the winds are lulled, watching the sun
That sinks behind those billows, and anon
Uprises, while the orange gleams that dye
The long, low windows of the western sky
Are imaged in the waters smooth and wan;
Coleridge! thus hang we on the mystic traces
Of that one Thought which feeds thy soul with light;
Thus falls the ‘Idea of the Infinite’
Dazzling our spirit-eyes, and up-turned faces;
Thus sinks, and reappears, and mocks our sight,
Absorbed once more in the great deep's embraces.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |