I lived upon the mercy of the fields,
And oft of cruelty the sky accused;
On hazard, or what general bounty yields,
Now coldly given, now utterly refused,
The fields I for my bed have often used:
But, what my peace with keenest ruth
Is, that I have my inner self abused,
Foregone the home delight of constant truth,
And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth.
And oft of cruelty the sky accused;
On hazard, or what general bounty yields,
Now coldly given, now utterly refused,
The fields I for my bed have often used:
But, what my peace with keenest ruth
Is, that I have my inner self abused,
Foregone the home delight of constant truth,
And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth.
Coleridge - Lyrical Ballads
