A Poem For Coleridge

The tender petal bends under the weight
Of fresh spring rain, come yet again.
The leaves of the laurel tree toss and bait
The young mockingbird resting then.
The beauty surrounding takes breath away.
Awe and delight it should inspire.
Why then does this sight turn our thoughts grey
To a poor girl in need of dire?

The stories of old cannot be ignored
As they are passed from age to age.
The tree is forgotten. Instead a horde
Of preverse words on a page
Dance before the eyes distorting the sight,
And taking the joy away.
What has man done by distorting the light
Of nature's beauty and play?

Foolish men have cut off a healing source.
If only they could stop and see.
Misjudging nature is cause for remorse
As the mariner would agree.
Instead, be pure of heart and joy will come.
Beauty makes beauty of thee.
The mariner was trapped until he succumb
To bless the slimy snake of the sea.