S.T. Coleridge succumbed to addiction,

As he found it crucial for the creation,

Opium was said to be opening doors,

For the poet, working as the oars!


He flew like a bird all around,

The fairyland of vision he really found,

He amassed the gems with famished heart,

Got blissful with the gift of the art!


With fresh verve Coleridge flew more and more,


Assuming the trances to end nevermore!

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