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'I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laugh'd loud and long, and all the while
"Ha! ha! quoth he, "full plain I see The Devil knows how to row."
'And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepp'd forth from the boat,
O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!" The Hermit cross'd his brow,
Say quick," quoth he, " I bid thee sayWhat manner of man art thou?
'Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
'I pass, like night, from land to land;
I know the man that must hear me :
'—What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding guests are there :
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bridesmaids singing are :
'O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide, wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God Himself
Scarce seemèd there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast, "Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
'To walk together to the kirk,
While each to his great Father bends,
-Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
'He prayeth best, who loveth best
-The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
He went like one that hath been stunn'd,
A sadder and a wiser man,
The Reverie of Poor Susan
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has pass'd by the spot, and has heard
'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
Lothbury] oth pronounced as in both.
Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripp'd with her pail ; And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
A WIDOW bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough ;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.
WE wander'd to the Pine Forest
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The whispering waves were half asleep,
It seem'd as if the hour were one
Sent from beyond the skies, Which scatter'd from above the sun A light of Paradise.
We paused amid the pines that stood The giants of the waste,
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
And soothed by every azure breath
As tender as its own;
How calm it was !-the silence there
The breath of peace we drew
The calm that round us grew. There seem'd from the remotest seat Of the white mountain waste, To the soft flower beneath our feet, A magic circle traced,A spirit interfused around, A thrilling, silent life,To momentary peace it bound Our mortal nature's strife;