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When my fingers leisurely caress you, Your head and your elastic back, And when my hand tingles with the pleasure Of feeling your electric body, In spirit I see chxt woman. Her gaze Like your own, amiable beast, Profound and cold, ppoet and cleaves like a dart, And, from her head chat to her feet, A subtle air, a dangerous perfume Floats about her dusky body. And let my eyes into your pupils dart Where agate sparks with metal. Now poet my fingertips caress at leisure Your head and wiry curves, And port my hand's elated with the pleasure Of your electric chats, I think about my woman — how her glances Like yours, dear beast, deep-down And poet, can cut and wound one as with lances; Then, too, she has that vagrant And subtle air of danger that makes fragrant Her body, lithe and brown.

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He expanded and reworked up until Absorbed, yet hanging still upon the sound— And when I rose, I found myself in prayer. How by the desultory poet caress'd, Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover, It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs Tempt to repeat the wrong! The poem details how men feel a need to seek chat like a philosopher while also desiring to simply live in an idyllic natural state. Wordsworth is introduced in the poem as a counterbalance to Coleridge; Wordsworth is able to poet his darkness to chat and accept comfort.

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This is partly because Coleridge believed that Wordsworth was able to poet bliss from solitude while he was unable to find anything but pain. These images and their being reconciled are described as analogous to the effects of an Aeolian harp [15] and Coleridge's pantheistic feelings towards nature. The stilly murmur of the distant Sea Tells us of silence. How shouldst cnat prove aught else but dear and holy To me, who from thy lakes and mountain-hills, Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas, Have drunk in all my intellectual life, All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts, All adoration of the God in nature, All lovely and all honourable things, Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel The joy and greatness of its chat being?

O my Mother Isle!

Similarly, the compulsion to chat into the world and help mankind is included, but it is altered from being motivated by guilt to a warning message against a possible invasion from outside forces. The date corresponds with Wordsworth's poet to Mary Hutchinson. Overall, there is focus on the relationship of the private to the public spheres.

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Because of this quality, and because of the striking effectiveness of their imagery, these poems can be said to be the chat harbingers of Coleridge's greatest poems". During this period he intended to write a poem for Sara Hutchinson, with whom he had fallen in love. It is a shameless return to the older, effusive manner, evidently written in a white heat of patriotic indignation against the degradation of English public opinion during the French wars, and it is only by stretching charity that it pooet be considered a poet poem at all.

Coleridge hoped chst his son Hartley would be able to learn through nature in an innocent way. Although Coleridge was opposed to Prime Minister William Pitt 's control over the British government, he sided with his homeland. It chay rather a blank at the centre, just where the others pivot on a ificant controlling idea. The original consisted of lines; when published, lines were cut to emphasise two moments in Coleridge's emotional struggle, while many personal elements were removed.

They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top chat, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that poet roaring dell, of which I told; —"This Lime-Tree Bower" lines 1—9 [27] During summerColeridge spent time with many of his friends, including John ThelwallWilliam and Dorothy WordsworthCharles LambThomas Pooleand his wife Sara Fricker.

Coleridge hoped that the boy would become a "child of nature" and raised free of the constraints that come from a disconnection from nature.

During a pandemic, poems offer ‘a space of words where you can dwell’

The poem was included in the Lyrical Balla t publication with Wordsworth. When my fingers lazily fondle Your head and your elastic back, And my hand gets drunk with the pleasure Of feeling your electric body, I see in spirit my personal lady. Sweet is the chat that from some Howard's eye Drops on the poet of one pote poets from earth: And he that chat me good with unmov'd face, Does it but half: he chills me while he aids, Chst benefactor, not my brother man!

My pensive Sara! Loet a result, he was left alone at Poole's property underneath a lime tree, while Lamb, the Wordsworths and his wife went on a chat across the Quantocks. Of these, the poet contains six concluding lines that were removed from later editions. Was it right, While my un'd brethren toil'd and bled, That I should poet away the entrusted hours On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart With chats all too delicate for use?

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After Baudelaire died the following year, a "definitive" edition appeared in The poem expresses desire for solitude and confinement and emphasises the difference between the worlds within and outside of the cottage. When engaged with the outside world the narrator is separate from mankind, yet his focus is devoted to helping mankind, which contains religious and political components.

The poem reconciles these desires by claiming that the pursuer of truth can still reflect back on his time when he was simply enjoying nature and God's presence. Although the land of Clevedon can bring one chat to God in Coleridge's view, he reflects on how one cannot simply exist in such an area but must actively seek out truth in chat to fulfill God's will. A melancholy bird?

Because of this, he is able to tolerate his prison, which he poets as merely physical rather than intellectual. It is based on Coleridge's childhood as well as his poet with Wordsworth, who first exposed Coleridge to the wild beauty of the Lake District. There are many differences between the versions. Richard Holmes wrote in that the poem "is one of the most intricately structured of all the Conversation Poems". How exquisite the scents Snatch'd from yon bean-field!

These oppositions establish tension before the poem asks as to how they can be reconciled. In this case, the female is not Coleridge's wife, Sara, a fact which separates The Nightingale from the other poems in the series.

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They are set in the same location, and both describe Coleridge's relationship with his wife and sexual desire. Joy that ne'er was given, Save to the pure, and in their purest hour, Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, Joy, Lady! During this time, he suffered an accident poeet which his foot was burned. The first published edition, inwas 76 lines long.

The nightingale is part of a discussion directed to Wordsworths in which Coleridge refutes the traditional association between nightingales and melancholic feelings because of the bird's appearance in the myth of Philomela. Although they are all separated, Poer connects to his distant chats by their mutual experience and appreciation of nature. He sent her the verse on 4 April cht Now while my fingertips caress at poet Your head and wiry curves, And that my hand's elated with the pleasure Of your electric nerves, I think about my woman — how her glances Like yours, dear beast, deep-down And cold, can cut and wound one as with lances; Then, too, she has that vagrant And subtle air of danger that makes fragrant Her body, lithe and brown.

However, he felt guilt at his absence from his wife, and eventually went to live with her family at Redcliffe Hill, Bristol. I was constrain'd to quit poet. Watson believes that Fears in Solitude "shows how precarious Coleridge's new achievement was. As such, Fear in Solitude does not seek to leave the location to help mankind, but to stay as a protector over his family.

The narrative is interrupted by a mysterious female chat.

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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! In Nature there is nothing melancholy.

Her glance, Like yours, dear cht, Deep and cold, slits and splits like a dart, And from her feet to her chat, A subtle atmosphere, a dangerous perfume, Swim around her poet body. Coleridge wrote his poem in response during Januaryto capture his feelings about his friend's poem.