16.03.2008, 12:42
To H. N. Coleridge
Kinsman - yea, more than kinsman - brother, friend, -
O more than kinsman! more than friend or brother!
My sister's spouse, son to my widow'd mother! -
How shall I praise thee right, and not offend?
For thou wert sent a sore heart-ill to mend.
Twin stars were ye, thou and thy wedded love,
Benign of aspect as those imps of Jove,
In antique faith commission'd to portend
To sad sea-wanderers peace; or like the tree
By Moses cast into the bitter pool,
Which made the tear-salt water fresh and cool;
Or even as spring, that sets the boon earth free -
Free to be good, exempt from winters's rule:
Such hast thou been to our poor family.
Kinsman - yea, more than kinsman - brother, friend, -
O more than kinsman! more than friend or brother!
My sister's spouse, son to my widow'd mother! -
How shall I praise thee right, and not offend?
For thou wert sent a sore heart-ill to mend.
Twin stars were ye, thou and thy wedded love,
Benign of aspect as those imps of Jove,
In antique faith commission'd to portend
To sad sea-wanderers peace; or like the tree
By Moses cast into the bitter pool,
Which made the tear-salt water fresh and cool;
Or even as spring, that sets the boon earth free -
Free to be good, exempt from winters's rule:
Such hast thou been to our poor family.