Identifier: homeschoolofamer00bird (find matches)
Title: Home school of American literature:
Year: 1897 (1890s)
Authors: Birdsall, William Wilfred, 1854-1909, (from old catalog) comp. and ed Jones, Rufus Matthew, 1863- (from old catalog) joint comp. and ed
Subjects: American literature English literature
Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa., Elliott publishing co
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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met, the feast is set:Mayst 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. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:He can not chuse but hear;And thus spake on that ancient man.The bright-eyed Mariner. ■.O^O THE PHANTOM SHIP. From The Ancient Mariner. HERE passed a weary time. Each throatWas parched, and glazed each eye.A weary time ! a weary time ! How glazed each weary eye. When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky ! At first it seemed a little speck.And then it seemed a mist ; It moved and moved, and took at lastA certain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! ■And still it neared and neared :As if it dodged a water-sprite,It plunged and tacked and veered. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked.We could nor laugh nor wail ;
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588 A Speck, a Mist, a Shape, I Wist! SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 589 Through utter drought all dumb we stood !I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,And cried, A sail, a sail ! With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,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 cried) she tacks no more !Hither to work us weal;Without a breeze, without a tide,She steadies 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 straight the Sun was flecked with bars,(Heavens Mother send us grace !)As if through a dungeon-grate he peeredWith 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 eossameres? Are those her ribs through which the SunDid peer, as through a gr

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