To a Lady who requested me to Write a Poem upon Nothing by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Lyrics
On nothing, Fanny, shall I write?
Shall I not one charm of thee indite?
The Muse is most unruly,
And vows to sing of what's more free,
More soft, more beautiful than thee;—
And that is Nothing, truly!
Shall I not one charm of thee indite?
The Muse is most unruly,
And vows to sing of what's more free,
More soft, more beautiful than thee;—
And that is Nothing, truly!