Coleridge

His eye saw all things in the symmetry
Of true and just proportion; and his ear
That inner tone could hear
Which flows beneath the outer. Therefore he
Was as a mighty shell, fashioning all
The winds to one rich sound, ample, and musical.

Yet dim that eye with gazing upon Heaven;
Wearied with vigils, and the frequent birth
Of tears when turned to earth:
Therefore, though farthest ken to him was given,
Near things escaped him. Through them — as a gem
Diaphanous — he saw; and therefore saw not them.

Moreover, men whom sovereign wisdom teaches
That God not less in humblest forms abides
Than those the great veil hides,
Such men a tremor of bright reverence reaches:
And thus, confronted ever with high things,
Like cherubim they hide their eyes between their wings.

No loftier, purer soul than his hath ever
With awe revolved the planetary page
(From infancy to age)
Of Knowledge; sedulous and proud to give her
The whole of his great heart for her own sake;
For what she is; not what she does, or what can make.

And mighty voices from afar came to him:
Converse of trumpets held by cloudy forms,
And speech of choral storms.
Spirits of night and noontide bent to woo him —
He stood the while, lonely and desolate
As Adam when he ruled a world, yet found no mate.

His loftiest Thoughts were but like palms uplifted;
Aspiring, yet in supplicating guise —
His sweetest songs were sighs.
Adown Lethean streams his spirit drifted,
Under Elysian shades from poppied bank
With Amaranths massed in dark luxuriance dank.

Coleridge, farewell! That great and grave transition
Which may not Priest or King or Conqueror spare,
And yet a Babe can bear,
Has come to thee. Through life a goodly vision
Was thine; and time it was thy rest to take.
Soft be the sound ordained thy sleep to break —
When thou art waking, wake me, for thy Master's sake!