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64 pages, Paperback
First published February 26, 2015


All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
Are all but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.

Well, they are gone, and here I must remain,You can tell he's pissed (rightly so, let's be real, his friends are dicks). He contemplates the beauty of nature which he'll miss out on because he can't join his friends on their walk.
This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost
Beauties and feelings, such as would have been
Most sweet to my remembrance even when age
Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness!
A delightAlthough he is separated from them, the poet connects to his distant friends and they are able to share in a common view on life.
Comes sudden to my heart, and I am glad
As I myself were there! Nor in this bower,
This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd
Much that has sooth'd me.
and sometimesThe poem describes Coleridge's loneliness and solitude throughout, yet he is glad that his friends are able to experience nature. Because of this, he is able to tolerate his prison, which he views as merely physical rather than intellectual.
'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good,
That we may lift the soul, and contemplate
With lively joy the joys we cannot share
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,Whilst researching him, I also learned that throughout his adult life Coleridge had crippling bouts of anxiety and depression; it has been speculated that he had bipolar disorder, which had not been defined during his lifetime. He was physically unhealthy, which may have stemmed from a bout of rheumatic fever and other childhood illnesses. He was treated for these conditions with laudanum, which fostered a lifelong opium addiction – which is quite crazy to think about, and really saddens me.
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long!
To be beloved is all I need,
And whom I love, I love indeed.