SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turn'd round, walks on,
And turns no moie his head,
Because he knowb a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made* Its path was not upon the sea, In ripple or in shade.
It raised my hair, it fann'd my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sail'd softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze On me alone it blew.
And the ancient O dream of joy' is this indeed
hoidethhis The lighthouse top I sec'
native country. j g ^ thfi hlll? j g ^ tRc j^p
Is this mine own countrec?
We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, And I with sobs did pray Or let me sleep alway.
The harbour-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn' And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the Moon.
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