The Internet Poetry Archive

Time, Real and Imaginary

Samuel Taylor Coleridge


On the wide level of a mountain's head,
(I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place)
Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails out-spread,
Two lovely children run an endless race,
     A sister and a brother!
     This far outstripp'd the other;
     Yet ever runs she with reverted face,
     And looks and listens for the boy behind:
     For he, alas! is blind!
O'er rough and smooth with even step he passed,
And knows not whether he be first or last.

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