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It is an ancient Mariner,
“Now wherefore stoppest me?
“The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide
“The Guests are met, the Feast is set,-
But still he holds the wedding guest—
“Mariner come with me.”
He holds him with his skinny hand,
“Now get thee hence, thou grey-beard Loon!
He holds him with his glittering eye—
And listens like a three year's child;
The wedding-guest sate on a stone,
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The Ship was cheer'd, the Harbour clear’d—
Below the Kirk, below the Hill,
The Sun came up upon the left,
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
The wedding-guest here beat his-breast,
The Bride hath pac'd into the Hall,
Nodding their heads before her goes