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Her beams bemocked the sultry main

Like April hoar-frost spread; But where the Ship's huge shadow lay, The charmed water burnt alway A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship

I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white } And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship

I watched their rich attire: Blue, glossy green, and velvet black They coiled and swam; and every track

Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:

A spring of love gusht from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware!

Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I blessed them unaware.

The self-same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.

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"O sleep, it is a gentle tiling

Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary-queen the praise be given,
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven

That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck

That had so long remained, I dreamt that they were filled with dew,

And when I awoke it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;

Sure I had drunken in my dreams',
And still my body drank.

I moved and could not feel my limbs,

I was so light, almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,

And was a blessed Ghost.

And soon I heard a roaring wind,

It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails

That were so thin and sere.

The upper air burst into life,

And a hundred fire-flags sheen
To and fro they were hurried about;
And to and fro, and in and out

The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud;

And the sails did sigh like sedge: And the rain poured down from one black cloud

The moon was at its edge.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky

I heard the Sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are How they seemed to fill the sea and air

With their sweet jargoning!

And now 'twas like all instruments,

Now like a lonely flute: And now it is an angel's song

That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased: yet still the sails made on

A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook

In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night

Singeth a quiet tune.

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