Poems By Mary Elizabeth Coleridge |
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| CCXXXVI. | CCXXXVIWORDS |
| CCXXXVII. |
 | Poems |  |
CCXXXVI
WORDS
Words, dear companions! In my curtained cot
I cooed and twittered like a nesting bird;
And women spoke around me; but no word
Came to my baby lips—I knew you not.
I cooed and twittered like a nesting bird;
And women spoke around me; but no word
Came to my baby lips—I knew you not.
213
Yet laughter did I know. I have not learned
To laugh more gaily since I first began.
The reasons of his mirth are born in man;
But man was born to laugh ere he discerned.
To laugh more gaily since I first began.
The reasons of his mirth are born in man;
But man was born to laugh ere he discerned.
And tears I knew. Who taught me how to cry?
Was it my mother's heart that whispered me?
Tears have I wept since then that none could see,
Nor laughed, as then I laughed, ere they were dry.
Was it my mother's heart that whispered me?
Tears have I wept since then that none could see,
Nor laughed, as then I laughed, ere they were dry.
Words, dear companions! As the spirit grew,
I loved you more and more with every hour.
I felt the sweep, the whirlwind of the power
He gave to man, when man created you.
I loved you more and more with every hour.
I felt the sweep, the whirlwind of the power
He gave to man, when man created you.
Words, dear companions! glittering, fair and brave!
Rapt in your rapture I was whirled along,
Strong in the faith of old, the might of song,
Struck through the silent portals of the grave.
Rapt in your rapture I was whirled along,
Strong in the faith of old, the might of song,
Struck through the silent portals of the grave.
214
Words, dear companions! Into you I drove
The dark dumb devil that besets the heart;
Nature in you rose to a heavenly art,
And wrought on earth an airy heaven of love.
The dark dumb devil that besets the heart;
Nature in you rose to a heavenly art,
And wrought on earth an airy heaven of love.
Ah, when ye leave me, will there yet remain
The laughter and the weeping all untaught?
And will they, in the realm of perfect thought,
Teach me new words to sing of life again?
The laughter and the weeping all untaught?
And will they, in the realm of perfect thought,
Teach me new words to sing of life again?
| Poems | |