His work, especially on William Shakespeare, was very influential, and he helped introduce German idealist philosophy to English-speaking culture. Coleridge also had a major influence on American transcendentalism and Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Throughout his adult life, Coleridge had crippling bouts of depression and anxiety; and it has been speculated that he suffered from bipolar disorder, which had not been defined during his lifetime. According to Wikipedia, Coleridge "was physically unhealthy, which may have stemmed from a bout of rheumatic fever and other childhood illnesses. He was treated for these conditions with laudanum, which fostered a lifelong opium addiction.
"Coleridge is one of the most important figures in English poetry. His poems directly and deeply influenced all the major poets of the age. He was known by his contemporaries as a meticulous craftsman who was more rigorous in his careful reworking of his poems than any other poet, and Southey and Wordsworth were dependent on his professional advice."
Wikipedia continued, "As important as Coleridge was to poetry as a poet, he was equally important to poetry as a critic. His philosophy of poetry, which he developed over many years, has been deeply influential in the field of literary criticism.
"Coleridge is arguably best known for his longer poems, particularly The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Christabel. Even those who have never read the Rime have come under its influence: its words have given the English language the metaphor of an albatross around one's neck, the quotation of "water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink" (almost always rendered as "but not a drop to drink"), and the phrase "a sadder and a wiser man" (usually rendered as "a sadder but wiser man"). The phrase "All creatures great and small" may have been inspired by The Rime: "He prayeth best, who loveth best;/ All things both great and small;/ For the dear God who loveth us;/ He made and loveth all." Christabel is known for its musical rhythm, language, and its Gothic tale.
Below are six poems written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Olivia's thoughts about them.
Answer to a Child's Question
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,
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!"
Olivia thought:
- I feel like birds don't actually say that.
- I didn't like this one as much. I don't really get it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Something Childish, but Very Natural
If I had but two little wings
And were a little feathery bird,
To you I’d fly, my dear!
But thoughts like these are idle things,
And I stay here.
But in my sleep to you I fly:
I’m always with you in my sleep!
The world is all one’s own.
But then one wakes, and where am I?
All, all alone.
Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids:
So I love to wake ere break of day:
For though my sleep be gone,
Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one’s lids,
And still dreams on.
Olivia thought:
- I feel like this would be something a child would say or think.
- A child's imagination would think of two little wings.
- So he is asleep and dreams about flying, and then wakes up and is disappointed he can't fly.
- He's talking about his dreams.
- This one made more sense.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O’Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?—
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone,—and the birch in its stead is grown.—
The Knight’s bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;—
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
Olivia thought:
- So they are looking for a famous knight's grave and it talks about him resting in his tomb and how he is resting in peace.
- The oak tree was the original grave marker.
- You never see an oak tree's flowers in the spring. The little buds...they fall.
- The bones are gone, his sword - no one would recognize it - and he is in heaven or the afterlife.
- I like this one better than the other two. I didn't like the ones about the kids as much as this one.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Rose
As late each flower that sweetest blows
I pluck’d, the Garden’s pride!
Within the petals of a Rose
A sleeping Love I 'spied.
Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue;
All purple glow’d his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with the dew.
I softly seiz’d th’ unguarded Power,
Nor scar’d his balmy rest:
And plac’d him, cag’d within the flower,
On spotless Sara’s breast.
But when unweeting of the guile
Awoke the pris’ner sweet,
He struggled to escape awhile
And stamp’d his faery feet.
Ah! soon the soul entrancing sight
Subdued th’ impatient boy!
He gaz’d! he thrill’d with deep delight!
Then clapp’d his wings for joy.
‘And O!’ he cried—'Of magic kind
What charms this Throne endear!
Some other Love let Venus find
I’ll fix my empire here.'
Olivia thought:
- That was a little more confusing. Even when we first broke it apart, we weren't sure what was going on. By the end, once we figured it out, it's cute.
- It's interesting that they mentioned the purple rose. That's unusual. You don't see that as much.
- I could imagine what the fairy looked like.
- I could imagine Sara laying in the grass and the rose - a dark purple, darker than a lavender, but it was probably a lighter one - being placed on her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Phantom
All look and likeness caught from earth
All accident of kin and birth,
Had pass’d away. There was no trace
Of aught on that illumined face,
Uprais’d beneath the rifted stone
But of one spirit all her own;—
She, she herself, and only she,
Shone through her body visibly.
Olivia thought:
- Okay...so it is a cracked stone or a cracked tomb and the spirit was able to get out?
{Note: I read this description from the website Stuff Jeff Reads: "According to the editor’s note in my book, this short poem is one of Coleridge’s attempts at describing Sara Hutchinson as she appeared to him in a dream. But as is often the case with Coleridge’s work, there is more meaning hidden below the surface.
"As one who was fascinated by the supernatural and metaphysics, we can assume that Coleridge believed that the human body is inhabited by a soul that continues to exist after a person has died. When a person enters into an altered state of consciousness—whether through sleep/dreams or psychotropic substances or meditation—that person becomes more open to perceiving non-corporeal entities.
"Coleridge makes it clear in this poem that he believes the spirit is the true essence of a person and not the physical form. Based upon the way he describes his interaction with Sara, I suspect that Coleridge believed he actually crossed a threshold while in the dream state and met with the spirit of Sara Hutchinson.}
- She was the only one who could display her own true self.
- It was definitely more a sadder one since it talked about death.
- Any mistakes she made no one would remember, and there's one else who can bear her likeness on earth.
- Her physical appearance is gone.
- Her spirit was shining...the rift was created because it was letting the spirit out.
- It was interesting...though it was confusing and you have to think about his poems more. I don't like this older form of poetry as much. I like shorter ones that current poets are doing.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
What If You Slept...
What if you slept
And what if
In your sleep
You dreamed
And what if
In your dream
You went to heaven
And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower
And what if
When you awoke
You had that flower in your hand
Ah, what then?
Olivia thought:
- It sounds like you died in your sleep and woke up in heaven. That's what it sounds like. You woke up in heaven, but you're still dead.
[I read it again.]
- He fell asleep and dreamed he died in his sleep, and then went to heaven. He picked a flower. Does that mean he slept-walked in his dream?
- Then he has a flower and decides what to do - be really confused or put it in a vase and think, "Ok..."
- [What would you do?] I would put it in a vase.
- Less confusing...though it doesn't quite make sense at the end when he wakes up and has a flower.
- I think he died [versus dreamed] because wouldn't the flower die if it left heaven since it is going to a realm that is not its own?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I remember reading his work--the two you mentioned--and I wasn't that impressed with him. There are other poets around that time I liked better, I guess. But it was the style to be kind of dreamy and vague at that time--LOL!
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