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G. Bell & sons, 1904 - 103 pages
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Page 95 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a Death? and are there two? Is Death that Woman's mate?
Page 81 - You will see Coleridge — he who sits obscure In the exceeding lustre and the pure Intense irradiation of a mind, Which, with its own internal lightning blind, Flags wearily through darkness and despair — A cloud-encircled meteor of the air, A hooded eagle among blinking owls.
Page 75 - Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs And vexes meditation with its strange And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood, This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood,.
Page 94 - 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.
Page 90 - By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm. Their beauty and their happiness. He blesseth them in his heart. The spell begins to break.
Page 91 - But why drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind?" Second Voice The air is cut away before, And closes from behind. Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high! Or we shall be belated: For slow and slow that ship •will go, When the Mariner's trance is abated.
Page 95 - The moving Moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside — 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.
Page 97 - The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock: The moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock. "And the bay was white with silent light, Till, rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came.
Page 77 - All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — And Winter, slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
Page 90 - It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship. And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. The SpectreWoman and her Death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton ship.

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