Meet us on:
Welcome to Read Print! Sign in with
or
to get started!
 
Entire Site
    Try our fun game

    Dueling book covers…may the best design win!

    Random Quote
    "The position of the artist is humble. He is essentially a channel."
    More: Art quotes
     

    Subscribe to Our Newsletter

    Follow us on Twitter

    Never miss a good book again! Follow Read Print on Twitter

    Youth and Age

    by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
    • Rate it:
    Launch Reading Mode
    Page 1 of 1
    Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
    Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee -
    Both were mine! Life went a-maying
    With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
    When I was young!
    When I was young? -Ah, woeful When!
    Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then!
    This breathing house not built with hands,
    This body that does me grievous wrong,
    O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands
    How lightly then it flashed along,
    Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
    On winding lakes and rivers wide,
    That ask no aid of sail or oar,
    That fear no spite of wind or tide!
    Nought cared this body for wind or weather
    When Youth and I lived in't together.

    Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
    Friendship is a sheltering tree;
    O the joys! that came down shower-like,
    Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
    Ere I was old!
    Ere I was old? Ah woeful Ere,
    Which tells me, Youth's no longer here!
    O Youth! for years so many and sweet
    'Tis known that Thou and I were one,
    I'll think it but a fond conceit -
    It cannot be that Thou art gone!
    Thy vesper-bell hath not yet tolled -
    And thou wert aye a masker bold!
    What strange disguise hast now put on,
    To make believe that thou art gone?
    I see these locks in silvery slips,
    This drooping gait, this altered size:
    But Springtide blossoms on thy lips,
    And tears take sunshine from thine eyes:
    Life is but Thought: so think I will
    That Youth and I are housemates still.

    Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
    But the tears of mournful eve!
    Where no hope is, life's a warning
    That only serves to make us grieve
    When we are old:
    That only serves to make us grieve
    With oft and tedious taking-leave,
    Like some poor nigh-related guest
    That may not rudely be dismist;
    Yet hath out-stayed his welcome while,
    And tells the jest without the smile.
    Page 1 of 1
    If you're writing a Youth and Age essay and need some advice, post your Samuel Taylor Coleridge essay question on our Facebook page where fellow bookworms are always glad to help!

    Top 5 Authors

    Top 5 Books

    Book Status
    Finished
    Want to read
    Abandoned

    Are you sure you want to leave this group?