The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
“God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!–
Why look ‘st thou so?”– with my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.
…
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
In Winter
Robert Wallace
It is hard, inland, in winter.
When the fields are motionless in snow
to remember waves, to remember the wide, sloshing immensity
of the Atlantic, continuous, green in the cold, taking snow
or rain into itself,
to realize the endurance of the tilting bell buoy
(hour by hour, years through) that clangs, clangs,
from land; even in storm and night-howling
snow, wet, red, flashing
to mark the channel. Some things
are, even if no one comes.
from The Tempest
William Shakespeare
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Curtsied when you have, and kiss’d
The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Hark, hark!
Bow-wow.
The watch-dogs bark.
Bow-wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them—Ding-dong, bell.
Fine Poems, Fine Art 