The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume I Part 132

Yet if, as soon as it is light, O Rain! you will but take your flight, 10 I'll neither rail, nor malice keep, Though sick and sore for want of sleep.

But only now, for this one day, Do go, dear Rain! do go away!

II

O Rain! with your dull two-fold sound, 15 The clash hard by, and the murmur all round!

You know, if you know aught, that we, Both night and day, but ill agree: For days and months, and almost years, Have limped on through this vale of tears, 20 Since body of mine, and rainy weather, Have lived on easy terms together.

Yet if, as soon as it is light, O Rain! you will but take your flight, Though you should come again to-morrow, 25 And bring with you both pain and sorrow; Though stomach should sicken and knees should swell-- I'll nothing speak of you but well.

But only now for this one day, Do go, dear Rain! do go away! 30

III

Dear Rain! I ne'er refused to say You're a good creature in your way; Nay, I could write a book myself, Would fit a parson's lower shelf, Showing how very good you are.-- 35 What then? sometimes it must be fair And if sometimes, why not to-day?

Do go, dear Rain! do go away!

IV

Dear Rain! if I've been cold and shy, Take no offence! I'll tell you why. 40 A dear old Friend e'en now is here, And with him came my sister dear; After long absence now first met, Long months by pain and grief beset-- We three dear friends! in truth, we groan 45 Impatiently to be alone.

We three, you mark! and not one more!

The strong wish makes my spirit sore.

We have so much to talk about, So many sad things to let out; 50 So many tears in our eye-corners, Sitting like little Jacky Horners-- In short, as soon as it is day, Do go, dear Rain! do go away.

V

And this I'll swear to you, dear Rain! 55 Whenever you shall come again, Be you as dull as e'er you could (And by the bye 'tis understood, You're not so pleasant as you're good), Yet, knowing well your worth and place, 60 I'll welcome you with cheerful face; And though you stayed a week or more, Were ten times duller than before; Yet with kind heart, and right good will, I'll sit and listen to you still; 65 Nor should you go away, dear Rain!

Uninvited to remain.

But only now, for this one day, Do go, dear Rain! do go away.

1802.

FOOTNOTES:

[382:2] First published in the _Morning Post_ (?), Oct. 7, 1802: included in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817: in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i.

54-6. First collected in 1844. In _Literary Remains_ the poem is dated 1809, but in a letter to J. Wedgwood, Oct. 20, 1802, Coleridge seems to imply that the _Ode to the Rain_ had appeared recently in the _Morning Post_. A MS. note of Mrs. H. N. Coleridge, included in other memoranda intended for publication in _Essays on His Own Times_, gives the date, 'Ode to Rain, October 7'. The issue for October 7 is missing in the volume for 1802 preserved in the British Museum, and it may be presumed that it was in that number the _Ode to the Rain_ first appeared. It is possible that the 'Ode' was written on the morning after the unexpected arrival of Charles and Mary Lamb at Greta Hall in August, 1802.

LINENOTES:

[45] We] With L. R, 1844, 1852. [The text was amended in P. W., 1877-80.]

A DAY-DREAM[385:1]

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut: I see a fountain, large and fair, A willow and a ruined hut, And thee, and me and Mary there.

O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow! 5 Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!

A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree: And lo! where Mary leans her head, Two dear names carved upon the tree! 10 And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow: Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.

'Twas day! but now few, large, and bright, The stars are round the crescent moon!

And now it is a dark warm night, 15 The balmiest of the month of June!

A glow-worm fall'n, and on the marge remounting s.h.i.+nes, and its shadow s.h.i.+nes, fit stars for our sweet fountain.

O ever--ever be thou blest!

For dearly, Asra! love I thee! 20 This brooding warmth across my breast, This depth of tranquil bliss--ah, me!

Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither, But in one quiet room we three are still together.

The shadows dance upon the wall, 25 By the still dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber, moveless all!

And now they melt to one deep shade!

But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee! 30

Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play-- 'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow!

But let me check this tender lay Which none may hear but she and thou!

Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming. 35 Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women!

1802.

FOOTNOTES:

[385:1] First published in the _Bijou_ for 1828: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. Asra is Miss Sarah Hutchinson; 'Our Sister and our Friend,'

William and Dorothy Wordsworth. There can be little doubt that these lines were written in 1801 or 1802.

LINENOTES:

[8] well] will Bijou, 1828.

[17] on] in Bijou, 1828.

[20] For Asra, dearly Bijou, 1828.

[28] one] me Bijou, 1828.

ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION[386:1]

Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove, The Linnet and Thrush say, 'I love and I love!'

In the winter they're silent--the wind is so strong; What it says, I don't know, but it sings a loud song.

But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, 5 And singing, and loving--all come back together.

But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he-- 'I love my Love, and my Love loves me!' 10

1802.