Deeper Into Coleridge

“Music is beneath me” wrote

the fat man, angering his wife by stealing

her broom for walking

scattering the straw. He loved to

pack a nightcap and declaim upon the moors.

“I would have married a servant girl

could I but be sure of her affection.”

But be sure!

Some men are never fated to be sure.

Amidst politicking, pregnancies and

penny-pinching, he found the time

to fall in love with the Wrong Woman.

No wonder he took opium to distract him

from the faceless fiend that follows after

most of us but specially him

who knew so well to court it.

In his mildewed study he sits alone

clutching his bad heart and writing

“Ours is not a logical age”

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