GILES'S HOPE

What? rise again with all one's bones,
Quoth Giles, I hope you fib:
I trusted, when I went to Heaven,
To go without my rib.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

COLOGNE

In Köln, a town of monks and bones,
And pavements fanged with murderous stones,
And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches,
I counted two-and-seventy stenches,
All well defined, and separate stinks!
Ye nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks,
The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne;
But tell me, nymphs, what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

AN ETERNAL POEM

Your poem must eternal be,
Dear sir, it can not fail,
For 'tis incomprehensible,
And wants both head and tail.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.