I mov'd and could not feel my limbs, I thought that I had died in sleep, The roaring wind! it roar'd far off, It did not come anear; But with its sound it shook the sails That were so thin and sere. The upper air bursts into life, The coming wind doth roar more loud; The sails do sigh, like sedge: The rain pours down from one black cloud And the Moon is at its edge. Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft, And the Moon is at its side : Like waters shot from some high crag, A river steep and wide. The strong wind reach'd the ship: it roar'd They groan'd, they stirr'd, they all uprose, It had been strange, even in a dream The helmsman steerd, the ship mov'd on; The Marineres all 'gan work the ropes, They rais'd their limbs like lifeless tools— The body of my brother's son Stood by me knee to knee : The body and I pull'd at one rope, But he said nought to me— And I quak'd to think of my own voice : The day-light dawn'd—they dropp'd their arms, Sweet sounds rose slowly thro' their mouths Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Slowly the sounds came back again Sometimes a dropping from the sky Sometimes all little birds that are How they seem'd to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning, And now 'twas like all instruments, And now it is an angel's song That makes the heavens be mute. It ceas'd: 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 Listen, O listen, thou Wedding-guest! "Marinere! thou hast thy will : "For that, which comes out of thine eye, doth make "My body and soul to be still." Never sadder tale was told To a man of woman born : Sadder and wiser thou wedding-guest ! Thou'lt rise to morrow morn. Never sadder tale was heard By a man of woman born : The Marineres all 'gan pull the ropes, Thought I, I am as thin as air— |