Excerpt from Dejection:An Ode by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

But thou, my dear! (dear indeed though art,
My Comforter, a Heart within my Heart!)
Thou, and the Few, we love, tho' few ye be,
Make up a World of Hopes and Fears for me.
And if Affliction, or distemp'ring Pain,
Or wayward Chance befall you, I complain
Not that I mourn — O Friends, most dear! most true!
Methinks to weep with you
Were better far tham to rejoicd alone —