Hartley Coleridge (19 September 1796 – 6 January 1849) was an English writer. He was the eldest son of the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
He was born in Kingsdown, a suburb of Bristol, and spent his early years in the care of Robert Southey at Greta Hall, Keswick, and he was educated by the Rev. John Dawes at Ambleside. In 1815, he went to Oxford, as a scholar of Merton College. He had inherited much of his father's character, and his lifestyle was such that, although he was successful in gaining an Oriel fellowship, at the close of the probationary year (1820) he was judged to have forfeited it. The authorities would not reverse their decision; but they awarded him a gift of ... more »
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Hartley Coleridge Poems
WHEN we were idlers with the loitering rills, The need of human love we little noted: Our love was nature; and the peace that floated On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills,
SHE pass'd away like morning dew Before the sun was high; So brief her time, she scarcely knew The meaning of a sigh.
She Is Not Fair To Outward View
SHE is not fair to outward view, As many maidens be, Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me:
Written On The Anniversary Of Our Father...
STILL for the world he lives, and lives in bliss, For God and for himself. Ten years and three Have now elapsed since he was dead to me
Full Well I Know . . .
FULL well I know - my friends - ye look on me A living specter of my Father dead - Had I not bourne his name, had I not fed
SHE is not fair to outward view As many maidens be, Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me;
No Life Vain
LET me not deem that I was made in vain, Or that my being was an accident, Which fate, in working its sublime intent,
How Long I Sailed . . .
HOW long I sailed, and never took a thought To what port I was bound! Secure as sleep, I dwelt upon the bosom of the deep
Address To Certain Golfishes
RESTLESS forms of living light Quivering on your lucid wings, Cheating still the curious sight
If I have sinned in act, I may repent; If I have erred in thought, I may disclaim My silent error, and yet feel no shame ;
THE mellow year is hasting to its close: The little birds have almost sung their last, Their small notes twitter in the dreary blast -
THERE have been poets that in verse display The elemental forms of human passions; Poets have been, to whom the fickle fashions
The Flight Of Youth
YOUTH, thou art fled, - but where are all the charms Which, though with thee they came, and passed with thee,
THE dark green Summer, with its massive hues, Fades into Autumn's tincture manifold. A gorgeous garniture of fire and gold
Comments about Hartley Coleridge
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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WHEN we were idlers with the loitering rills,
The need of human love we little noted:
Our love was nature; and the peace that floated
On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills,
To sweet accord subdued our wayward wills:
One soul was ours, one mind, one heart devoted,
That, wisely doting, ask'd not why it doted,
And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills.
But now I find how dear thou wert to me;
That man is more than half of nature's treasure,
Of that fair beauty which no eye can...