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Coleridge, of boyhood in the early dawn Oppressed I felt not, nor of hope forlorn, Grasping your hand. You spoke, as though our school Were of a separate world the vestibule; And we its habitants.--In cloistered walk While such of opening scenes your cherished talk, I listened breathless;--and I saw you prove Your boded triumphs in the college grove. Thence, by a sudden plunge, amid their strife You sprang into the waves of this world's life; Nor paused.--Far, far away it was mine to hear Fame of your struggles, and the applauding cheer. At last of wondrous boy, of bard, of sage Sank beneath friendship's roof the sheltered age.