"Dejection: An Ode" is English Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge's exploration of despair, joy, and imagination. Lost in a terrible "dejection"—a kind of numb, colorless hopelessness—the poem's speaker reflects that, when a person is in such a mood, the whole world looks blank and empty. It takes the complex powers of the "Imagination," the speaker continues, to make the outside world feel meaningful and beautiful. Coleridge first published "Dejection" in London's Morning Post newspaper in 1802.
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The Full Text of “Dejection: An Ode”
Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon,
With the old Moon in her arms;
And I fear, I fear, my Master dear!
We shall have a deadly storm.
(Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence)
1
1Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
2 The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
3 This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
4Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
5Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,
6Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes
7Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,
8 Which better far were mute.
9 For lo! the New-moon winter-bright!
10 And overspread with phantom light,
11 (With swimming phantom light o'erspread
12 But rimmed and circled by a silver thread)
13I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling
14 The coming on of rain and squally blast.
15And oh! that even now the gust were swelling,
16 And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast!
17Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
18 And sent my soul abroad,
19Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
20Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!
2
21A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
22 A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,
23 Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
24 In word, or sigh, or tear—
25O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood,
26To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd,
27 All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
28Have I been gazing on the western sky,
29 And its peculiar tint of yellow green:
30And still I gaze—and with how blank an eye!
31And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
32That give away their motion to the stars;
33Those stars, that glide behind them or between,
34Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen:
35Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
36In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue;
37I see them all so excellently fair,
38I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!
3
39 My genial spirits fail;
40 And what can these avail
41To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?
42 It were a vain endeavour,
43 Though I should gaze for ever
44On that green light that lingers in the west:
45I may not hope from outward forms to win
46The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
4
47O Lady! we receive but what we give,
48And in our life alone does nature live:
49Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!
50 And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
51Than that inanimate cold world allowed
52To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
53 Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
54A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
55 Enveloping the Earth—
56And from the soul itself must there be sent
57 A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
58Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
5
59O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me
60What this strong music in the soul may be!
61What, and wherein it doth exist,
62This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
63This beautiful and beauty-making power.
64 Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given,
65Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
66Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower,
67Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,
68Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower
69 A new Earth and new Heaven,
70Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud—
71Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud—
72 We in ourselves rejoice!
73And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
74 All melodies the echoes of that voice,
75All colours a suffusion from that light.
6
76There was a time when, though my path was rough,
77 This joy within me dallied with distress,
78And all misfortunes were but as the stuff
79 Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness:
80For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
81And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
82But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
83Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth,
84 But oh! each visitation
85Suspends what nature gave me at my birth,
86 My shaping spirit of Imagination.
87For not to think of what I needs must feel,
88 But to be still and patient, all I can;
89And haply by abstruse research to steal
90 From my own nature all the natural man—
91 This was my sole resource, my only plan:
92Till that which suits a part infects the whole,
93And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.
7
94Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind,
95 Reality's dark dream!
96I turn from you, and listen to the wind,
97 Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream
98Of agony by torture lengthened out
99That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that rav'st without,
100 Bare crag, or mountain-tairn, or blasted tree,
101Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb,
102Or lonely house, long held the witches' home,
103 Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
104Mad Lutanist! who in this month of showers,
105Of dark brown gardens, and of peeping flowers,
106Mak'st Devils' yule, with worse than wintry song,
107The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among.
108 Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
109Thou mighty Poet, e'en to frenzy bold!
110 What tell'st thou now about?
111 'Tis of the rushing of a host in rout,
112 With groans of trampled men, with smarting wounds—
113At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold!
114But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
115 And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
116With groans, and tremulous shudderings—all is over—
117 It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud!
118 A tale of less affright,
119 And tempered with delight,
120As Otway's self had framed the tender lay,—
121 'Tis of a little child
122 Upon a lonesome wild,
123Nor far from home, but she hath lost her way:
124And now moans low in bitter grief and fear,
125And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear.
8
126'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
127Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
128Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
129 And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
130May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
131 Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
132 With light heart may she rise,
133 Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
134 Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice;
135To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
136Their life the eddying of her living soul!
137 O simple spirit, guided from above,
138Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
139Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.
The Full Text of “Dejection: An Ode”
Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon,
With the old Moon in her arms;
And I fear, I fear, my Master dear!
We shall have a deadly storm.
(Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence)
1
1Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
2 The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
3 This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
4Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
5Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,
6Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes
7Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,
8 Which better far were mute.
9 For lo! the New-moon winter-bright!
10 And overspread with phantom light,
11 (With swimming phantom light o'erspread
12 But rimmed and circled by a silver thread)
13I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling
14 The coming on of rain and squally blast.
15And oh! that even now the gust were swelling,
16 And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast!
17Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
18 And sent my soul abroad,
19Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
20Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!
2
21A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
22 A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,
23 Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
24 In word, or sigh, or tear—
25O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood,
26To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd,
27 All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
28Have I been gazing on the western sky,
29 And its peculiar tint of yellow green:
30And still I gaze—and with how blank an eye!
31And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
32That give away their motion to the stars;
33Those stars, that glide behind them or between,
34Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen:
35Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
36In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue;
37I see them all so excellently fair,
38I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!
3
39 My genial spirits fail;
40 And what can these avail
41To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?
42 It were a vain endeavour,
43 Though I should gaze for ever
44On that green light that lingers in the west:
45I may not hope from outward forms to win
46The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
4
47O Lady! we receive but what we give,
48And in our life alone does nature live:
49Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!
50 And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
51Than that inanimate cold world allowed
52To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
53 Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
54A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
55 Enveloping the Earth—
56And from the soul itself must there be sent
57 A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
58Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
5
59O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me
60What this strong music in the soul may be!
61What, and wherein it doth exist,
62This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
63This beautiful and beauty-making power.
64 Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given,
65Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
66Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower,
67Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,
68Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower
69 A new Earth and new Heaven,
70Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud—
71Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud—
72 We in ourselves rejoice!
73And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
74 All melodies the echoes of that voice,
75All colours a suffusion from that light.
6
76There was a time when, though my path was rough,
77 This joy within me dallied with distress,
78And all misfortunes were but as the stuff
79 Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness:
80For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
81And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
82But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
83Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth,
84 But oh! each visitation
85Suspends what nature gave me at my birth,
86 My shaping spirit of Imagination.
87For not to think of what I needs must feel,
88 But to be still and patient, all I can;
89And haply by abstruse research to steal
90 From my own nature all the natural man—
91 This was my sole resource, my only plan:
92Till that which suits a part infects the whole,
93And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.
7
94Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind,
95 Reality's dark dream!
96I turn from you, and listen to the wind,
97 Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream
98Of agony by torture lengthened out
99That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that rav'st without,
100 Bare crag, or mountain-tairn, or blasted tree,
101Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb,
102Or lonely house, long held the witches' home,
103 Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
104Mad Lutanist! who in this month of showers,
105Of dark brown gardens, and of peeping flowers,
106Mak'st Devils' yule, with worse than wintry song,
107The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among.
108 Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
109Thou mighty Poet, e'en to frenzy bold!
110 What tell'st thou now about?
111 'Tis of the rushing of a host in rout,
112 With groans of trampled men, with smarting wounds—
113At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold!
114But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
115 And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
116With groans, and tremulous shudderings—all is over—
117 It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud!
118 A tale of less affright,
119 And tempered with delight,
120As Otway's self had framed the tender lay,—
121 'Tis of a little child
122 Upon a lonesome wild,
123Nor far from home, but she hath lost her way:
124And now moans low in bitter grief and fear,
125And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear.
8
126'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
127Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
128Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
129 And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
130May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
131 Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
132 With light heart may she rise,
133 Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
134 Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice;
135To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
136Their life the eddying of her living soul!
137 O simple spirit, guided from above,
138Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
139Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.
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“Dejection: An Ode” Summary
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“Dejection: An Ode” Themes
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Despair and Emotional Numbness
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Joy and Imagination
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Humanity's Relationship with Nature
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Heartbreak and Longing
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Line-by-Line Explanation & Analysis of “Dejection: An Ode”
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Lines 1-5
Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes, -
Lines 6-8
Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes
Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,
Which better far were mute. -
Lines 9-14
For lo! the New-moon winter-bright!
And overspread with phantom light,
(With swimming phantom light o'erspread
But rimmed and circled by a silver thread)
I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling
The coming on of rain and squally blast. -
Lines 15-20
And oh! that even now the gust were swelling,
And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast!
Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
And sent my soul abroad,
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! -
Lines 21-24
A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,
Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
In word, or sigh, or tear— -
Lines 25-30
O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood,
To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd,
All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
Have I been gazing on the western sky,
And its peculiar tint of yellow green:
And still I gaze—and with how blank an eye! -
Lines 31-36
And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
That give away their motion to the stars;
Those stars, that glide behind them or between,
Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen:
Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue; -
Lines 35-38
Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue;
I see them all so excellently fair,
I see, not feel, how beautiful they are! -
Lines 39-44
My genial spirits fail;
And what can these avail
To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?
It were a vain endeavour,
Though I should gaze for ever
On that green light that lingers in the west: -
Lines 45-46
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within. -
Lines 47-49
O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does nature live:
Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud! -
Lines 50-52
And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
Than that inanimate cold world allowed
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, -
Lines 53-58
Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the Earth—
And from the soul itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element! -
Lines 59-63
O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me
What this strong music in the soul may be!
What, and wherein it doth exist,
This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
This beautiful and beauty-making power. -
Lines 64-66
Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given,
Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, -
Lines 67-69
Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,
Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower
A new Earth and new Heaven, -
Lines 70-72
Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud—
Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud—
We in ourselves rejoice! -
Lines 73-75
And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
All melodies the echoes of that voice,
All colours a suffusion from that light. -
Lines 76-81
There was a time when, though my path was rough,
This joy within me dallied with distress,
And all misfortunes were but as the stuff
Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness:
For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine. -
Lines 82-86
But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth,
But oh! each visitation
Suspends what nature gave me at my birth,
My shaping spirit of Imagination. -
Lines 87-93
For not to think of what I needs must feel,
But to be still and patient, all I can;
And haply by abstruse research to steal
From my own nature all the natural man—
This was my sole resource, my only plan:
Till that which suits a part infects the whole,
And now is almost grown the habit of my soul. -
Lines 94-99
Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind,
Reality's dark dream!
I turn from you, and listen to the wind,
Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream
Of agony by torture lengthened out
That lute sent forth! -
Lines 99-104
Thou Wind, that rav'st without,
Bare crag, or mountain-tairn, or blasted tree,
Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb,
Or lonely house, long held the witches' home,
Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
Mad Lutanist! -
Lines 104-107
who in this month of showers,
Of dark brown gardens, and of peeping flowers,
Mak'st Devils' yule, with worse than wintry song,
The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among. -
Lines 108-113
Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
Thou mighty Poet, e'en to frenzy bold!
What tell'st thou now about?
'Tis of the rushing of a host in rout,
With groans of trampled men, with smarting wounds—
At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold! -
Lines 114-117
But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
With groans, and tremulous shudderings—all is over—
It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud! -
Lines 118-125
A tale of less affright,
And tempered with delight,
As Otway's self had framed the tender lay,—
'Tis of a little child
Upon a lonesome wild,
Nor far from home, but she hath lost her way:
And now moans low in bitter grief and fear,
And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear. -
Lines 126-131
'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth! -
Lines 132-136
With light heart may she rise,
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice;
To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of her living soul! -
Lines 137-139
O simple spirit, guided from above,
Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.
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“Dejection: An Ode” Symbols
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The Storm
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“Dejection: An Ode” Poetic Devices & Figurative Language
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Allusion
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Apostrophe
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Imagery
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Simile
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Metaphor
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Personification
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Repetition
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Parallelism
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Alliteration
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Assonance
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“Dejection: An Ode” Vocabulary
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
- Yestreen
- Bard
- Weather-wise
- Tranquil
- Hence
- Unroused
- Ply a busier trade
- Mould
- Yon
- Æolian lute
- Mute
- Lo!
- O'erspread
- Phantom
- Foretelling
- Squally blast
- Slant night-shower
- Oft
- Whilst
- Abroad
- Wonted
- Pang
- Void, dark, and drear
- Stifled
- Unimpassioned
- Wan and heartless
- Yonder
- Throstle
- Woo'd
- Balmy
- Bedimmed
- Fair
- Genial
- What can these avail
- Breast
- It were a vain endeavour
- Garment
- Shroud
- Aught
- Inanimate
- Issue forth
- Glory
- Luminous
- Enveloping
- Potent
- Element
- Thou
- Need'st
- Wherein
- Doth
- Virtuous
- Ne'er
- Effluence
- Dower
- Undreamt of
- Sensual
- Thence
- All that charms or ear or sight
- Suffusion
- Dallied with distress
- Misfortunes
- Whence
- Fancy
- Foliage
- Afflictions
- Mirth
- Visitation
- Suspends
- Shaping spirit of Imagination
- Needs must
- Haply
- Abstruse research
- Natural man
- Sole
- Viper
- Raved
- Mountain-tairn
- Blasted
- Pine-grove whither woodman never clomb
- Methinks
- Lutanist
- Mak'st Devils' yule
- Timorous
- E'en to frenzy bold
- Tell'st
- 'Tis
- A host in rout
- Smarting
- Tremulous
- Affright
- Tempered
- As Otway's self had framed the tender lay
- A lonesome wild
- Vigils
- May this storm be but a mountain-birth
- Dwelling
- Gay fancy
- Attune
- From pole to pole
- Eddying
- Friend devoutest of my choice
- Mayest
- Ever, evermore
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- See where this vocabulary word appears in the poem.
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Form, Meter, & Rhyme Scheme of “Dejection: An Ode”
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Form
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Meter
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Rhyme Scheme
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“Dejection: An Ode” Speaker
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“Dejection: An Ode” Setting
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Literary and Historical Context of “Dejection: An Ode”
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More “Dejection: An Ode” Resources
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External Resources
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The Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence — Listen to the folk song Coleridge alludes to in the first lines of the poem. The words of this old ballad are more than a little relevant to the story Coleridge tells!
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A Reading of the Poem — Listen to the actor Sir Ralph Richardson reading the poem aloud.
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Coleridge's Legacy — Read biographer Richard Holmes's overview of Coleridge's poetic career.
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Coleridge and "Asra" — Learn more about "Asra," the beloved "Lady" to whom Coleridge addresses this poem.
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A Coleridge Biography — Visit the British Library's website to learn more about Coleridge's life and work.
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The Asra Poems — Read a collection of Coleridge's "Asra" poems—including the intimate, tormented "Letter to Sara Hutchinson," the first version of "Dejection: An Ode."
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LitCharts on Other Poems by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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