Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.

All Nature seems at work, slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
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All Nature seems at work, slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
And Winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Iago's soliloquy--the motive-hunting of a motiveless
malignity--how awful it is!

Iago's soliloquy--the motive-hunting of a motiveless
malignity--how awful it is!

O sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise read more

O sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven
That slid into my soul.

And a good south wind sprung up behind,
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food read more

And a good south wind sprung up behind,
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner's hollo!
"God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends that plague thus thee!--
Why look'st thou so?"--"With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross."