While my young cheek retains its healthful hues, <br />And I have many friends who hold me dear; <br />L----! methinks, I would not often hear <br />Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose <br />All memory of the wrongs and sore distress, <br />For which my miserable brethren weep! <br />But should uncomforted misfortunes steep <br />My daily bread in tears and bitterness; <br />And if at death's dread moment I should lie, <br />With no beloved face at my bed-side, <br />To fix the last glance of my closing-eye, <br />Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angel-guide, <br />Would make me pass the cup of anguish by, <br />Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died!<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-to-w-l-while-he-sang-a-song-to-purcell-s-music/
