Poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Humility the Mother of Charity

Frail creatures are we all! To be the best,
Is but the fewest faults to have:—
Look thou then to thyself, and leave the rest
To God, thy conscience, and the grave.

1. Lines
2. On a Ruined House in a Romantic Country
3. On a Connubial Rupture in High Life
4. Imitated from the Welsh
5. Lines Written after a Walk before Supper

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