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 Coleridgebr br