Dejection an ode

Stanza 6:

In the sixth stanza of the ode Coleridge mourns the loss of his creative prowess. He laments
that his suffering has caused the death of his creativity which was essential to him as a poet and
was the very thing he could find solace in. He thinks of the olden days when even though he
used to be sad and life was unfortunate but he still had hope by his side that did not let him be
devoured by dejection entirely. It was hope and joy that kept his heart hoping for betterment.
They made him hold on and eventually get over his troubles. He states that joy was what had
kept his imagination alive back then and hence had made him happy. The hope kindling in his
heart made him look forward to good days and even amidst troubles he used to stay optimistic.
But now, the colossal suffering has killed his joy and optimism. It has broken his back and has
snatched from him his poetic fancy.
The poet says that more than troubles it is the loss of his poetic ability that is bothering him. The
pain is so great for him that he starts seeking refuge in the metaphysical realm of the world. It is
the same realm of abstract suffering that has caused him all the loss but he says that he has no
other way but to make peace with it and hope no further.

Stanza 7:

This stanza speaks volumes of Coleridge's suffering. These lines are indeed an ode to dejection
and pain. The poet is brimmed with sad thoughts and is mourning the death of his inner joy. He
no longer hopes for a better future. All his hopes are shattered. The pain is so immense that to
distract himself from it he turns his thoughts to the storm outside. But no matter how much he
tries the sad thoughts keep weighing him down. He states that he was so engrossed in his pain
that he almost missed noticing the storm that was raging outside and the music that the harsh
winds were making. The tone of the stanza gets even sadder when the poet states that the
music of the air rather than soothing him, is agonizing his pain. He calls the wind a mad lutenist.
He blames it for shifting the nice month of April to the harsh days of winter.
No matter the state of the wind, but it only appears harsh and tragic to Colergide. He finds its
gush sad and asks the wind what it really wants to tell him. Does it want him to know of human
pain and suffering?
Coleridge paints in this stanza a cruel picture of a baby wailing for his mother in the wilderness.
At the end of the stanza Coleridge states that the storm that once upon a time used to inspire
him is only a source of pain and fear now.