This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison - Coleridge.

Because I'm also feeling left alone and whiny about it. Although I did not come to quite such beautiful conclusions as Coleridge here.


Author's Preface
In the June of 1797 some long-expected Friends paid a visit to the author's cottage; and on the morning of their arrival, he met with an accident, which disabled him from walking during the whole time of their stay. One evening, when they had left him for a few hours, he composed the following lines in the garden-bower.


This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
This lime tree bower my prison ! 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 ! They, meanwhile,
Friends, whom I never more may meet again,
On springy heath, along the hill-top edge,
Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,
To that still roaring dell, of which I told ;

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