Poem 81 - 100 days of poetry
\n==This recording is temporarily unavailable==
\nPART THE FIRST.<\/p>\n
It is an ancient Mariner,
\nAnd he stoppeth one of three.
\n\"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
\nNow wherefore stopp'st thou me?<\/p>\n
\"The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
\nAnd I am next of kin;
\nThe guests are met, the feast is set:
\nMay'st hear the merry din.\"<\/p>\n
He holds him with his skinny hand,
\n\"There was a ship,\" quoth he.
\n\"Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!\"
\nEftsoons his hand dropt he.<\/p>\n
He holds him with his glittering eye--
\nThe Wedding-Guest stood still,
\nAnd listens like a three years child:
\nThe Mariner hath his will.<\/p>\n
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
\nHe cannot chuse but hear;
\nAnd thus spake on that ancient man,
\nThe bright-eyed Mariner.<\/p>\n
The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
\nMerrily did we drop
\nBelow the kirk, below the hill,
\nBelow the light-house top.<\/p>\n
The Sun came up upon the left,
\nOut of the sea came he!
\nAnd he shone bright, and on the right
\nWent down into the sea.<\/p>\n
Higher and higher every day,
\nTill over the mast at noon--
\nThe Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
\nFor he heard the loud bassoon.<\/p>\n
The bride hath paced into the hall,
\nRed as a rose is she;
\nNodding their heads before her goes
\nThe merry minstrelsy.<\/p>\n
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
\nYet he cannot chuse but hear;
\nAnd thus spake on that ancient man,
\nThe bright-eyed Mariner.<\/p>\n
And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he
\nWas tyrannous and strong:
\nHe struck with his o'ertaking wings,
\nAnd chased south along.<\/p>\n
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
\nAs who pursued with yell and blow
\nStill treads the shadow of his foe
\nAnd forward bends his head,
\nThe ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
\nAnd southward aye we fled.<\/p>\n
And now there came both mist and snow,
\nAnd it grew wondrous cold:
\nAnd ice, mast-high, came floating by,
\nAs green as emerald.<\/p>\n
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
\nDid send a dismal sheen:
\nNor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
\nThe ice was all between.<\/p>\n
The ice was here, the ice was there,
\nThe ice was all around:
\nIt cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
\nLike noises in a swound!<\/p>\n
At length did cross an Albatross:
\nThorough the fog it came;
\nAs if it had been a Christian soul,
\nWe hailed it in God's name.<\/p>\n
It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
\nAnd round and round it flew.
\nThe ice did split with a thunder-fit;
\nThe helmsman steered us through!<\/p>\n
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
\nThe Albatross did follow,
\nAnd every day, for food or play,
\nCame to the mariners' hollo!<\/p>\n
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
\nIt perched for vespers nine;
\nWhiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
\nGlimmered the white Moon-shine.<\/p>\n
\"God save thee, ancient Mariner!
\nFrom the fiends, that plague thee thus!--
\nWhy look'st thou so?\"--With my cross-bow
\nI shot the ALBATROSS.<\/p>\n
PART THE SECOND.<\/p>\n
The Sun now rose upon the right:
\nOut of the sea came he,
\nStill hid in mist, and on the left
\nWent down into the sea.<\/p>\n
And the good south wind still blew behind
\nBut no sweet bird did follow,
\nNor any day for food or play
\nCame to the mariners' hollo!<\/p>\n
And I had done an hellish thing,
\nAnd it would work 'em woe:
\nFor all averred, I had killed the bird
\nThat made the breeze to blow.
\nAh wretch! said they, the bird to slay
\nThat made the breeze to blow!<\/p>\n
Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
\nThe glorious Sun uprist:
\nThen all averred, I had killed the bird
\nThat brought the fog and mist.
\n'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
\nThat bring the fog and mist.<\/p>\n
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
\nThe furrow followed free:
\nWe were the first that ever burst
\nInto that silent sea.<\/p>\n
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
\n'Twas sad as sad could be;
\nAnd we did speak only to break
\nThe silence of the sea!<\/p>\n
All in a hot and copper sky,
\nThe bloody Sun, at noon,
\nRight up above the mast did stand,
\nNo bigger than the Moon.<\/p>\n
Day after day, day after day,
\nWe stuck, nor breath nor motion;
\nAs idle as a painted ship
\nUpon a painted ocean.<\/p>\n
Water, water, every where,
\nAnd all the boards did shrink;
\nWater, water, every where,
\nNor any drop to drink.<\/p>\n
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
\nThat ever this should be!
\nYea, slimy things did crawl with legs
\nUpon the slimy sea.<\/p>\n
About, about, in reel and rout
\nThe death-fires danced at night;
\nThe water, like a witch's oils,
\nBurnt green, and blue and white.<\/p>\n
And some in dreams assured were
\nOf the spirit that plagued us so:
\nNine fathom deep he had followed us
\nFrom the land of mist and snow.<\/p>\n
And every tongue, through utter drought,
\nWas withered at the root;
\nWe could not speak, no more than if
\nWe had been choked with soot.<\/p>\n
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
\nHad I from old and young!
\nInstead of the cross, the Albatross
\nAbout my neck was hung.<\/p>\n
PART THE THIRD.<\/p>\n
There passed a weary time. Each throat
\nWas parched, and glazed each eye.
\nA weary time! a weary time!
\nHow glazed each weary eye,
\nWhen looking westward, I beheld
\nA something in the sky.<\/p>\n
At first it seemed a little speck,
\nAnd then it seemed a mist:
\nIt moved and moved, and took at last
\nA certain shape, I wist.<\/p>\n
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
\nAnd still it neared and neared:
\nAs if it dodged a water-sprite,
\nIt plunged and tacked and veered.<\/p>\n
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
\nWe could not laugh nor wail;
\nThrough utter drought all dumb we stood!
\nI bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
\nAnd cried, A sail! a sail!<\/p>\n
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
\nAgape they heard me call:
\nGramercy! they for joy did grin,
\nAnd all at once their breath drew in,
\nAs they were drinking all.<\/p>\n
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
\nHither to work us weal;
\nWithout a breeze, without a tide,
\nShe steadies with upright keel!<\/p>\n
The western wave was all a-flame
\nThe day was well nigh done!
\nAlmost upon the western wave
\nRested the broad bright Sun;
\nWhen that strange shape drove suddenly
\nBetwixt us and the Sun.<\/p>\n
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
\n(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
\nAs if through a dungeon-grate he peered,
\nWith broad and burning face.<\/p>\n
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
\nHow fast she nears and nears!
\nAre those her sails that glance in the Sun,
\nLike restless gossameres!<\/p>\n
Are those her ribs through which the Sun
\nDid peer, as through a grate?
\nAnd is that Woman all her crew?
\nIs that a DEATH? and are there two?
\nIs DEATH that woman's mate?<\/p>\n
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
\nHer locks were yellow as gold:
\nHer skin was as white as leprosy,
\nThe Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
\nWho thicks man's blood with cold.<\/p>\n
The naked hulk alongside came,
\nAnd the twain were casting dice;
\n\"The game is done! I've won! I've won!\"
\nQuoth she, and whistles thrice.<\/p>\n
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
\nAt one stride comes the dark;
\nWith far-heard whisper, o'er the sea.
\nOff shot the spectre-bark.<\/p>\n
We listened and looked sideways up!
\nFear at my heart, as at a cup,
\nMy life-blood seemed to sip!<\/p>\n
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
\nThe steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;
\nFrom the sails the dew did drip--
\nTill clombe above the eastern bar
\nThe horned Moon, with one bright star
\nWithin the nether tip.<\/p>\n
One after one, by the star-dogged Moon
\nToo quick for groan or sigh,
\nEach turned his face with a ghastly pang,
\nAnd cursed me with his eye.<\/p>\n
Four times fifty living men,
\n(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
\nWith heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
\nThey dropped down one by one.<\/p>\n
The souls did from their bodies fly,--
\nThey fled to bliss or woe!
\nAnd every soul, it passed me by,
\nLike the whizz of my CROSS-BOW!<\/p>\n
PART THE FOURTH.<\/p>\n
\"I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
\nI fear thy skinny hand!
\nAnd thou art long, and lank, and brown,
\nAs is the ribbed sea-sand.<\/p>\n
\"I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
\nAnd thy skinny hand, so brown.\"--
\nFear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
\nThis body dropt not down.<\/p>\n
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
\nAlone on a wide wide sea!
\nAnd never a saint took pity on
\nMy soul in agony.<\/p>\n
The many men, so beautiful!
\nAnd they all dead did lie:
\nAnd a thousand thousand slimy things
\nLived on; and so did I.<\/p>\n
I looked upon the rotting sea,
\nAnd drew my eyes away;
\nI looked upon the rotting deck,
\nAnd there the dead men lay.<\/p>\n
I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray:
\nBut or ever a prayer had gusht,
\nA wicked whisper came, and made
\nmy heart as dry as dust.<\/p>\n
I closed my lids, and kept them close,
\nAnd the balls like pulses beat;
\nFor the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
\nLay like a load on my weary eye,
\nAnd the dead were at my feet.<\/p>\n
The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
\nNor rot nor reek did they:
\nThe look with which they looked on me
\nHad never passed away.<\/p>\n
An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
\nA spirit from on high;
\nBut oh! more horrible than that
\nIs a curse in a dead man's eye!
\nSeven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
\nAnd yet I could not die.<\/p>\n
The moving Moon went up the sky,
\nAnd no where did abide:
\nSoftly she was going up,
\nAnd a star or two beside.<\/p>\n
Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
\nLike April hoar-frost spread;
\nBut where the ship's huge shadow lay,
\nThe charmed water burnt alway
\nA still and awful red.<\/p>\n
Beyond the shadow of the ship,
\nI watched the water-snakes:
\nThey moved in tracks of shining white,
\nAnd when they reared, the elfish light
\nFell off in hoary flakes.<\/p>\n
Within the shadow of the ship
\nI watched their rich attire:
\nBlue, glossy green, and velvet black,
\nThey coiled and swam; and every track
\nWas a flash of golden fire.<\/p>\n
O happy living things! no tongue
\nTheir beauty might declare:
\nA spring of love gushed from my heart,
\nAnd I blessed them unaware:
\nSure my kind saint took pity on me,
\nAnd I blessed them unaware.<\/p>\n
The self same moment I could pray;
\nAnd from my neck so free
\nThe Albatross fell off, and sank
\nLike lead into the sea.<\/p>\n
PART THE FIFTH.<\/p>\n
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
\nBeloved from pole to pole!
\nTo Mary Queen the praise be given!
\nShe sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
\nThat slid into my soul.<\/p>\n
The silly buckets on the deck,
\nThat had so long remained,
\nI dreamt that they were filled with dew;
\nAnd when I awoke, it rained.<\/p>\n
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
\nMy garments all were dank;
\nSure I had drunken in my dreams,
\nAnd still my body drank.<\/p>\n
I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
\nI was so light--almost
\nI thought that I had died in sleep,
\nAnd was a blessed ghost.<\/p>\n
And soon I heard a roaring wind:
\nIt did not come anear;
\nBut with its sound it shook the sails,
\nThat were so thin and sere.<\/p>\n
The upper air burst into life!
\nAnd a hundred fire-flags sheen,
\nTo and fro they were hurried about!
\nAnd to and fro, and in and out,
\nThe wan stars danced between.<\/p>\n
And the coming wind did roar more loud,
\nAnd the sails did sigh like sedge;
\nAnd the rain poured down from one black cloud;
\nThe Moon was at its edge.<\/p>\n
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
\nThe Moon was at its side:
\nLike waters shot from some high crag,
\nThe lightning fell with never a jag,
\nA river steep and wide.<\/p>\n
The loud wind never reached the ship,
\nYet now the ship moved on!
\nBeneath the lightning and the Moon
\nThe dead men gave a groan.<\/p>\n
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
\nNor spake, nor moved their eyes;
\nIt had been strange, even in a dream,
\nTo have seen those dead men rise.<\/p>\n
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
\nYet never a breeze up blew;
\nThe mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
\nWhere they were wont to do:
\nThey raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
\nWe were a ghastly crew.<\/p>\n
The body of my brother's son,
\nStood by me, knee to knee:
\nThe body and I pulled at one rope,
\nBut he said nought to me.<\/p>\n
\"I fear thee, ancient Mariner!\"
\nBe calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
\n'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
\nWhich to their corses came again,
\nBut a troop of spirits blest:<\/p>\n
For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,
\nAnd clustered round the mast;
\nSweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
\nAnd from their bodies passed.<\/p>\n
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
\nThen darted to the Sun;
\nSlowly the sounds came back again,
\nNow mixed, now one by one.<\/p>\n
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
\nI heard the sky-lark sing;
\nSometimes all little birds that are,
\nHow they seemed to fill the sea and air
\nWith their sweet jargoning!<\/p>\n
And now 'twas like all instruments,
\nNow like a lonely flute;
\nAnd now it is an angel's song,
\nThat makes the Heavens be mute.<\/p>\n
It ceased; yet still the sails made on
\nA pleasant noise till noon,
\nA noise like of a hidden brook
\nIn the leafy month of June,
\nThat to the sleeping woods all night
\nSingeth a quiet tune.<\/p>\n
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
\nYet never a breeze did breathe:
\nSlowly and smoothly went the ship,
\nMoved onward from beneath.<\/p>\n
Under the keel nine fathom deep,
\nFrom the land of mist and snow,
\nThe spirit slid: and it was he
\nThat made the ship to go.
\nThe sails at noon left off their tune,
\nAnd the ship stood still also.<\/p>\n
The Sun, right up above the mast,
\nHad fixed her to the ocean:
\nBut in a minute she 'gan stir,
\nWith a short uneasy motion--
\nBackwards and forwards half her length
\nWith a short uneasy motion.<\/p>\n
Then like a pawing horse let go,
\nShe made a sudden bound:
\nIt flung the blood into my head,
\nAnd I fell down in a swound.<\/p>\n
How long in that same fit I lay,
\nI have not to declare;
\nBut ere my living life returned,
\nI heard and in my soul discerned
\nTwo VOICES in the air.<\/p>\n
\"Is it he?\" quoth one, \"Is this the man?
\nBy him who died on cross,
\nWith his cruel bow he laid full low,
\nThe harmless Albatross.<\/p>\n
\"The spirit who bideth by himself
\nIn the land of mist and snow,
\nHe loved the bird that loved the man
\nWho shot him with his bow.\"<\/p>\n
The other was a softer voice,
\nAs soft as honey-dew:
\nQuoth he, \"The man hath penance done,
\nAnd penance more will do.\"<\/p>\n
PART THE SIXTH.<\/p>\n
FIRST VOICE.<\/p>\n
But tell me, tell me! speak again,
\nThy soft response renewing--
\nWhat makes that ship drive on so fast?
\nWhat is the OCEAN doing?<\/p>\n
SECOND VOICE.<\/p>\n
Still as a slave before his lord,
\nThe OCEAN hath no blast;
\nHis great bright eye most silently
\nUp to the Moon is cast--<\/p>\n
If he may know which way to go;
\nFor she guides him smooth or grim
\nSee, brother, see! how graciously
\nShe looketh down on him.<\/p>\n
FIRST VOICE.<\/p>\n
But why drives on that ship so fast,
\nWithout or wave or wind?<\/p>\n
SECOND VOICE.<\/p>\n
The air is cut away before,
\nAnd closes from behind.<\/p>\n
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high
\nOr we shall be belated:
\nFor slow and slow that ship will go,
\nWhen the Mariner's trance is abated.<\/p>\n
I woke, and we were sailing on
\nAs in a gentle weather:
\n'Twas night, calm night, the Moon was high;
\nThe dead men stood together.<\/p>\n
All stood together on the deck,
\nFor a charnel-dungeon fitter:
\nAll fixed on me their stony eyes,
\nThat in the Moon did glitter.<\/p>\n
The pang, the curse, with which they died,
\nHad never passed away:
\nI could not draw my eyes from theirs,
\nNor turn them up to pray.<\/p>\n
And now this spell was snapt: once more
\nI viewed the ocean green.
\nAnd looked far forth, yet little saw
\nOf what had else been seen--<\/p>\n
Like one that on a lonesome road
\nDoth walk in fear and dread,
\nAnd having once turned round walks on,
\nAnd turns no more his head;
\nBecause he knows, a frightful fiend
\nDoth close behind him tread.<\/p>\n
But soon there breathed a wind on me,
\nNor sound nor motion made:
\nIts path was not upon the sea,
\nIn ripple or in shade.<\/p>\n
It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
\nLike a meadow-gale of spring--
\nIt mingled strangely with my fears,
\nYet it felt like a welcoming.<\/p>\n
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
\nYet she sailed softly too:
\nSweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
\nOn me alone it blew.<\/p>\n
Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
\nThe light-house top I see?
\nIs this the hill? is this the kirk?
\nIs this mine own countree!<\/p>\n
We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
\nAnd I with sobs did pray--
\nO let me be awake, my God!
\nOr let me sleep alway.<\/p>\n
The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
\nSo smoothly it was strewn!
\nAnd on the bay the moonlight lay,
\nAnd the shadow of the moon.<\/p>\n
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
\nThat stands above the rock:
\nThe moonlight steeped in silentness
\nThe steady weathercock.<\/p>\n
And the bay was white with silent light,
\nTill rising from the same,
\nFull many shapes, that shadows were,
\nIn crimson colours came.<\/p>\n
A little distance from the prow
\nThose crimson shadows were:
\nI turned my eyes upon the deck--
\nOh, Christ! what saw I there!<\/p>\n
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
\nAnd, by the holy rood!
\nA man all light, a seraph-man,
\nOn every corse there stood.<\/p>\n
This seraph band, each waved his hand:
\nIt was a heavenly sight!
\nThey stood as signals to the land,
\nEach one a lovely light:<\/p>\n
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
\nNo voice did they impart--
\nNo voice; but oh! the silence sank
\nLike music on my heart.<\/p>\n
But soon I heard the dash of oars;
\nI heard the Pilot's cheer;
\nMy head was turned perforce away,
\nAnd I saw a boat appear.<\/p>\n
The Pilot, and the Pilot's boy,
\nI heard them coming fast:
\nDear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
\nThe dead men could not blast.<\/p>\n
I saw a third--I heard his voice:
\nIt is the Hermit good!
\nHe singeth loud his godly hymns
\nThat he makes in the wood.
\nHe'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
\nThe Albatross's blood.<\/p>\n
PART THE SEVENTH.<\/p>\n
This Hermit good lives in that wood
\nWhich slopes down to the sea.
\nHow loudly his sweet voice he rears!
\nHe loves to talk with marineres
\nThat come from a far countree.<\/p>\n
He kneels at morn and noon and eve--
\nHe hath a cushion plump:
\nIt is the moss that wholly hides
\nThe rotted old oak-stump.<\/p>\n
The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,
\n\"Why this is strange, I trow!
\nWhere are those lights so many and fair,
\nThat signal made but now?\"<\/p>\n
\"Strange, by my faith!\" the Hermit said--
\n\"And they answered not our cheer!
\nThe planks looked warped! and see those sails,
\nHow thin they are and sere!
\nI never saw aught like to them,
\nUnless perchance it were<\/p>\n
\"Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
\nMy forest-brook along;
\nWhen the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
\nAnd the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
\nThat eats the she-wolf's young.\"<\/p>\n
\"Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look--
\n(The Pilot made reply)
\nI am a-feared\"--\"Push on, push on!\"
\nSaid the Hermit cheerily.<\/p>\n
The boat came closer to the ship,
\nBut I nor spake nor stirred;
\nThe boat came close beneath the ship,
\nAnd straight a sound was heard.<\/p>\n
Under the water it rumbled on,
\nStill louder and more dread:
\nIt reached the ship, it split the bay;
\nThe ship went down like lead.<\/p>\n
Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
\nWhich sky and ocean smote,
\nLike one that hath been seven days drowned
\nMy body lay afloat;
\nBut swift as dreams, myself I found
\nWithin the Pilot's boat.<\/p>\n
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
\nThe boat spun round and round;
\nAnd all was still, save that the hill
\nWas telling of the sound.<\/p>\n
I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked
\nAnd fell down in a fit;
\nThe holy Hermit raised his eyes,
\nAnd prayed where he did sit.<\/p>\n
I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
\nWho now doth crazy go,
\nLaughed loud and long, and all the while
\nHis eyes went to and fro.
\n\"Ha! ha!\" quoth he, \"full plain I see,
\nThe Devil knows how to row.\"<\/p>\n
And now, all in my own countree,
\nI stood on the firm land!
\nThe Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
\nAnd scarcely he could stand.<\/p>\n
\"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!\"
\nThe Hermit crossed his brow.
\n\"Say quick,\" quoth he, \"I bid thee say--
\nWhat manner of man art thou?\"<\/p>\n
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
\nWith a woeful agony,
\nWhich forced me to begin my tale;
\nAnd then it left me free.<\/p>\n
Since then, at an uncertain hour,
\nThat agony returns;
\nAnd till my ghastly tale is told,
\nThis heart within me burns.<\/p>\n
I pass, like night, from land to land;
\nI have strange power of speech;
\nThat moment that his face I see,
\nI know the man that must hear me:
\nTo him my tale I teach.<\/p>\n
What loud uproar bursts from that door!
\nThe wedding-guests are there:
\nBut in the garden-bower the bride
\nAnd bride-maids singing are:
\nAnd hark the little vesper bell,
\nWhich biddeth me to prayer!<\/p>\n
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
\nAlone on a wide wide sea:
\nSo lonely 'twas, that God himself
\nScarce seemed there to be.<\/p>\n
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
\n'Tis sweeter far to me,
\nTo walk together to the kirk
\nWith a goodly company!--<\/p>\n
To walk together to the kirk,
\nAnd all together pray,
\nWhile each to his great Father bends,
\nOld men, and babes, and loving friends,
\nAnd youths and maidens gay!<\/p>\n
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
\nTo thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
\nHe prayeth well, who loveth well
\nBoth man and bird and beast.<\/p>\n
He prayeth best, who loveth best
\nAll things both great and small;
\nFor the dear God who loveth us
\nHe made and loveth all.<\/p>\n
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
\nWhose beard with age is hoar,
\nIs gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
\nTurned from the bridegroom's door.<\/p>\n
He went like one that hath been stunned,
\nAnd is of sense forlorn:
\nA sadder and a wiser man,
\nHe rose the morrow morn.<\/p>\n