Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/115

 Man's breathing Miniature! thou mak'st me sigh— A Babe art thou—and such a Thing am I! To anger rapid and as soon appeas'd, For trifles mourning and by trifles pleas'd, Break Friendship's Mirror with a tetchy blow, Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar glow!

O thou that rearest with celestial aim The future Seraph in my mortal frame, Thrice holy ! whatever thorns I meet As on I totter with unpractis'd feet, Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee, Meek Nurse of Souls thro' their long Infancy!