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.
 
IV. To Bowles
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)
 
MY heart has thanked thee, Bowles! for those soft strains,
  Whose sadness soothes me, like the murmuring
  Of wild-bees in the sunny showers of spring!
  For hence, not callous to the mourner’s pains
Through youth’s gay prime and thornless paths I went:        5
  And when the mightier throes of mind began,
  And drove me forth, a thought-bewildered man!
  Their mild and manliest melancholy lent
A mingled charm, such as the pang consigned
  To slumber, though the big tear it renewed;        10
  Bidding a strange, mysterious pleasure brood
Over the wavy and tumultuous mind,
  As the great Spirit erst with plastic sweep
  Moved on the darkness of the unformed deep.
 
 
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