Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion, As idle as a painted Ship Upon a painted Ocean. Water, water, every where And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink. The very deeps did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy Sea. About, about, in reel and rout The Death-fires danc'd at night; The water, like a witch's oils. Burnt green and blue and white. And some in dreams assured were Of the Spirit that plagued us so: Nine fathom deep he had follow'd us From the Land of Mist and Snow. And every tongue thro' utter drouth Was wither'd at the root; We could not speak no more than if We had been choked with soot. Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young; Instead of the Cross the Albatross About my neck was hung. III. So past a weary time; each throat Was parch'd, and glaz'd each eye, When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seem'd a little speck And then it seem'd a mist: It mov'd and mov'd, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! And still it near'd and near'd; And, as if it dodg'd a water-sprite, It plung'd and tack'd and veer'd. With throat unslack'd, with black lips bak'd We could nor laugh nor wail; Thro' utter drouth all dumb we stood Till I bit my arm and suck'd the blood, And cry'd, A sail! a sail! With throat unslack'd, with black lips bak'd Agape they heard me call: Gramercy! they for joy did grin And all at once their breath drew in As they were drinking all. See! See! (I cry'd) she tacks no more! Hither to work us weal Without a breeze, without a tide She steddies with upright keel! The western wave was all a flame, The day was well nigh done! Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright Sun; When that strange shape drove suddenly Betwixt us and the Sun. And strait the Sun was fleck'd with bars (Heaven's mother send us grace) As if thro' a dungeon grate he peer'd With broad and burning face. Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she nears and nears! Are those _her_ Sails that glance in the Sun Like restless gossameres? Are those _her_ Ribs, thro' which the Sun Did peer, as thro' a grate? And are those two all, all her crew. That Woman, and her Mate? _His_ bones were black with many a crack, All black and bare, I ween; Jet-black and bare, save where with rust Of mouldy damps and charnel crust They were patch'd with purple and green. _Her_ lips were red, _her_ looks were free, _Her_ locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy, And she was far liker Death than he; Her flesh made the still air cold.