. Home school of American literature: . met, the feast is set:Mayst hear the merry din. He holds him with his skinny hand, There was a ship, quoth he. Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon ! Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye—The Wedding-Guest stood listens like a three years child :The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:He can not chuse but hear;And thus spake on that ancient bright-eyed Mariner. ■.O^O THE PHANTOM SHIP. From The Ancient Mariner. HERE passed a weary time. Each throatWas parched, and glazed each weary tim


. Home school of American literature: . met, the feast is set:Mayst hear the merry din. He holds him with his skinny hand, There was a ship, quoth he. Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon ! Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye—The Wedding-Guest stood listens like a three years child :The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:He can not chuse but hear;And thus spake on that ancient bright-eyed Mariner. ■.O^O THE PHANTOM SHIP. From The Ancient Mariner. HERE passed a weary time. Each throatWas parched, and glazed each weary time ! a weary time ! How glazed each weary eye. When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky ! At first it seemed a little then it seemed a mist ; It moved and moved, and took at lastA certain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! ■And still it neared and neared :As if it dodged a water-sprite,It plunged and tacked and veered. With throats unslaked, with black lips could nor laugh nor wail ;. 588 A Speck, a Mist, a Shape, I Wist! SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 589 Through utter drought all dumb we stood !I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,And cried, A sail, a sail ! With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,Agape they heard me call :Gramercy! they for joy did grin,And all at once their breath drew in,As they were drinking all. See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more !Hither to work us weal;Without a breeze, without a tide,She steadies with upright keel! The western wave was all a-flame. The day was well nigh done ! Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright Sun ; When that strange shape drove suddenly Betwixt us and the Sun. And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,(Heavens Mother send us grace !)As if through a dungeon-grate he peeredWith broad and burning face. Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)How fast she nears and nears !Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,Like restless eossameres? Are those her ribs throug


Size: 1374px × 1818px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectenglishliterature