Living Poets

{{DISPLAYTITLE:Coleridge, ''Frost at Midnight'' (London, 1798)}}
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How oft, at school, with most believing mind,<br /> 
Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,<br /> 
To watch that fluttering ''stranger''! and as oft<br /> 
With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt<br /> 
Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower,<br /> 
Whose bells, the poor man’s only music, rang<br /> 
From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,<br /> 
So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me<br /> 
With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear<br /> 
Most like articulate sounds of things to come! 

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|editor=Nicholas Freer
|guides=[[The Perils of Autobiography]]
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{{#set:Short title=Coleridge, ''Frost at Midnight'' (London, 1798)}}