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Poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


Psyche


The butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name--
But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade
Of mortal life !--For in this earthly frame
Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame,
Manifold motions making little speed,
And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed. 



Samuel Taylor Coleridge


Samuel Taylor Coleridge's other poems:
  1. Lines
  2. Ode to Tranquillity
  3. Lines Written after a Walk before Supper
  4. To an Infant
  5. Cologne


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Jones Very Psyche ("I SAW a worm, with many a fold")
  • Thomas Heywood Psyche ("But Psyche lives, and on her breath attend")

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