Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)--- Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, IV: 9-11
How fast she nears and nears !
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres ?
And 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 ?
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold :
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
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3 years ago