Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
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Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
 
III. On Seeing a Youth Affectionately Welcomed by a Sister
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)
 
I TOO a sister had! too cruel Death!
  How sad remembrance bids my bosom heave!
Tranquil her soul as sleeping infant’s breath;
  Meek were her manners as a vernal eve.
Knowledge, that frequent lifts the bloated mind,        5
  Gave her the treasure of a lowly breast;
And Wit, to venomed Malice oft assigned,
  Dwelt in her bosom in a turtle’s nest.
Cease, busy Memory! cease to urge the dart,
  Nor on my soul her love to me impress!        10
For oh! I mourn in anguish; and my heart
  Feels the keen pang, th’ unutterable distress.
Yet wherefore grieve I that her sorrows cease,
For life was misery, and the grave is peace.
 
 
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