Samuel Taylor Coleridge

“ Disease on earth its head recline,
And bids Compassion seek the realms of woe
To heal the wounded, and to raise the low.
She comes! she comes! the meek-eyed Power I see
With liberal hand that loves to bless;
The clouds of Sorrow at her presence flee;
Rejoice! rejoice! ye Children of Distress!
The beams that play around her head
Thro’ Want’s dark vale their radiance spread:
The young uncultur’d mind imbibes the ray,
And Vice reluctant quits th’ expected prey. ”