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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lines Composed In A Concert-Room</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Nor cold nor stern my soul! Yet I detest<br>These scented rooms, where to a gaudy throug,<br>Heaves the proud harlot her distended breast<br>In intricacies of laborious song.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">These feel not musics genuine power nor deign<br>To melt at Natures passion-warbled plaint;<br>But when the long-breathed singers up-trilled strain<br>Bursts in a squall, they gape for wonderment.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Hark! the deep buzz of vanity and hate!<br>Scornful, yet envious, with self-torturing sneer<br>My lady eyes some maid of humbler state,<br>While the pert captain, or the primmer priest,<br>Prattles accordant scandal in her ear.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">0 give me, from this heartless scene released,<br>To hear our old musician, blind and gray,<br>(Whom, stretching from my nurses arms I kissed,)<br>His Scottish tunes and warlike marches play,<br>By moonshine, on the balmy summer-night,<br>The while I dance amid the tedded hay<br>With merry maids, whose ringlets toss in light.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Or lies the purple evening on the bay<br>Of the calm glossy lake, O let me hid <br>Unheard, unseen, behind the alder-trees,<br>For round their roots the fisher's boat is tied,<br>On whose trim seat doth Edmund stretch at ease,<br>And while the lazy boat sways to and fro,<br>Breathes in his flute sad airs, so wild and slow,<br>That his own cheek is wet with quiet tears.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But O, dear Anne! when midnight wind careers,<br>And the gust pelting on the out-house shed <br>Makes the cock shrilly on the rain-storm crow,<br>To hear thee sing some ballad full of woe,<br>Ballad of ship-wrecked sailor floating dead,<br>Whom his own true-love buried in the sands!<br>Thee, gentle woman, for thy voice re-measures<br>Whatever tones and melancholy pleasures<br>The things of Nature utter; birds or trees<br>Or moan of ocean-gale in weedy caves,<br>Or where the stiff grass mid the heath-plant waves,<br>Murmur and music thin of sudden breeze.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Samuel+Taylor+Coleridge">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</a></strong></div>