The Poets Pluck- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Poets Plucker….. Samuel Taylor Coleridge Here in my cold lonely bed I ponder my all I have FEARS in SOLITUDE of being alone DEJECTION of my love had pierced my heart…..yet THE NIGHTINGALE sings lustily a cheerful tune My consciousness behaves as EOLIAN HARP as Coleridge poem suggests full of delusion So through opaque glass my window I cannot see FROST AT MIDNIGHT has now spoilt for me this vision So with dejection, curl into a foetal ball hiding In THIS LIME-TREE BOWER A PRISON MAKE I await my fate, wondering will my heart heal Will I from my ongoing pity…soon awake penned 5 February 2017