I continued to see Mr. Coleridge every day, and occasionally said to him,
smiling, "Well, how much copy;" "None, to day," was the general reply,
"but to-morrow you shall have some." To-morrow produced, if any, perhaps
a dozen lines; and, in a favourable state of mind, so much, it might be,
as half a dozen pages: and here I think I can correctly state, that Mr.
C. had repeated to me at different times nearly all the poems contained
in his volume, except the "Religious Musings," which I understood to be
wholly a new poem. It may amuse the reader to receive one or two more of
Mr. C.'s little apologies.
"My dear Friend,
The Printer may depend on copy by to-morrow.