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leave his heart untouched, as does the ‘sublime’ spectacle of the vast night sky and the starry heavens– ‘I see not feel how beautiful they are!’ But rather than see the cause of his dejection as his inabilityto respond to the phenomena of nature, he stresses that it is God’s vision present in the mind thatbestows all value on the world. Coleridge is dejected because his mind is sick, not because nature haswithdrawn some power that had previously provided him with a sense of elation. The physical worldof appearances is not the place to look for any lifting of the spirits, it may seem to be that way, but ourfeelings are not dependent on the natural world. Having defined his own feelings of dejection inresponse to the commonplaces that Wordsworth uses in his stanzas, and which produce no feeling forhim whatsoever, Coleridge then turns to address Wordsworth to disabuse him of his attachment to theworld of outer form:I may not hope from outwards Forms to winThe Passion & the Life, whose Fountains are withinO Wordsworth! we receive but what we give,And in our life alone does Nature live:Our’s is her Wedding-garment, our’s her Shroud!And would we aught behold of higher WorthThan that inanimate cold world allow’dTo the poor loveless ever anxious Crowd,Ah from the Soul itself must issue forthA Light, a Glory, a fair luminous cloudEnveloping the Earth!And from the Soul there must be sentA sweet and pow’rful Voice, of its own BirthOf all sweet Sounds the Life and Element!These lines and the argument they present for the creative soul are well known to students ofBritish Romantic literature. Having asserted his claim that it is the soul, not Nature that gives life tothings, Coleridge again addresses, and also praises Wordsworth as someone ‘pure of heart’ who hasno need to ask ‘What this strong Music in the Soul may be’ because he has already experienced it. Inaddressing him in such a manner Coleridge co-opts Wordsworth to join him as a fellow believer in theself-creating power of the rapturous and joyful soul.O pure of Heart! thou need’st not ask of meWhat 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!JOY, blameless Poet! JOY, that ne’er was givenSave to the Pure, and in their purest Hour,Joy, William! is the Spirit & the PowerThat wedding Nature to us gives in Dow[er]A new Earth and new HeavenUndreamt of by the Sensual and the Proud!JOY is that sweet Voice, Joy that luminous cloud -We, we ourselves rejoice!And thence comes all that charms or ear or sight,All Melodies an Echo of that Voice,All colors a suffusion from that Light! (CL II 817)63