The Ancient Mariner

It is a mariner in the morning bright, Near the border of a rock; He looks far into the sea, Past the low tide wash that won’t stop.

He laughs aloud with a joyous mien, The delight of fish he knows, Held close by a feeling espoused As in the wind the weed still blows.

I yearn, my thoughts turn clear! How pure the sea, how clean the salt! With patience won, the heart transcends And gives me birth to time, the fault!

• Samuel Taylor Coleridge