SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, I heard them coming fast: Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third I heard his voice:
It is the Hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood.
PART VII
The Hermit 'This hermit good lives in that wood
of the Wood TTT-I. i- i i i.
Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears' He loves to talk with marmeres That come from a far countree.
He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve
He hath a cushion plump.
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.
The skiff-boat near'd I heard them talk, "Why, this is strange, I trow' Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now ? " Approacheth "Strange, by my faith'" the Hermit said
the ship with t e A j i i j i i
The planks look warp'd 1 and see those sails, How thm they are and sere' I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were
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