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.

��The Hermit of the Wood.

��Approacheth the ship with wonder.

��PART VII

'This hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres 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 ? "

" Strange, by my faith ! " the Hermit said

" And they answer'd not our cheer !

The planks look warp'd ! and see those sails,

How thin they are and sere !

I never saw aught like to them,

Unless perchance it were

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