VERSE, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying, Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee— Both were mine! Life went a-maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young! When I was young?—Ah, woeful when! Ah! for the change ’twixt Now and Then! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands How lightly then it flashed along: Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar, That fear no spite of wind or tide! Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in’t together. Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree; O! the joys, that came down shower-like, Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, Ere I was old! Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere, Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here! O Youth! for years so many and sweet, ’Tis known that thou and I were one, I’ll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet tolled:— And thou wert aye a masker bold! What strange disguise hast now put on To make believe that thou art gone? I see these locks in silvery slips, This drooping gait, this altered size; But Spring-tide blossoms on thy lips, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes! Life is but Thought: so think I will That Youth and I are house-mates still. Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve, Where no hope is, life’s forewarning That only serves to make us grieve, When we are old: That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, Like some poor nigh-related guest That may not rudely be dismissed, Yet hath out-stayed his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile. THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER _In seven parts_ ARGUMENT HOW a ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancient Mariner came back to his own Country. PART I IT is an ancient mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. ‘By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me? ‘The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set: May’st hear the merry din.’ He holds him with his skinny hand, ‘There was a ship,’ quoth he. ‘Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!’ Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye— The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three-years’ child: The mariner hath his will.