夜鶯讀後感 spoiler alert

spoiler alert, all the secrets were out.   

    I was reading a book called TheNightingale by KristinHanna.  My sister listened the book first and really liked it.  I found a large print version in library and finished the first few chapters and sat on it until the time to renew.  Do not know why.  I really like the first chapter.  But after that, it became a drag.  Most of the middle part was really heavy.  Until Isabelle decided to do something extra ordinary.  Then the description of the first escape, the killing, the failed escape, and Jewish roundup, each segments was really powerful, vivid, and well paced.  I can feel clearly the impact of each storyline.  I was quite impressed.  However, the tone of the story telling was already dreadful.  The concentration camp part did not add much to an already heavy plot line.  And the rape storyline was heavy handed.   I think the rape brought the extra layer of Vianne was not a bad idea.  But the scenes described it was horrendous.  My sister said rape is universal, I understand, for it appeared in movies, and many other media.  But here, I think was used to paint a wicked man rather than showing how sad Vianne's situation was.  I felt the author cannot think other ways to end Vianne's storyline, this became her choice.  At the beginning, I did not like the scenes between Vianne and Beck.  It is like sometimes when I read a story, I can understand the intention of the author, but I also feel the intention fails to resonate in me.  And here's the same thing, I felt that Vianne and Beck line actually worked well.  Because it's a huge impact for Vianne personally, and as a reader, I am able to feel the heavy blow.  But rape, I felt it's rushed and redundant, very cliche, by introducing a character whose only purpose is to torment and gone.  It's author's skill, because it helped to end Vianne's storyline, and connect the past and present with that son of hers.  But redundant, and cliche.  

    I really liked the first chapter, the detailed psychological descriptions of a Mother.  I especially liked the quote "in love you find out what you want to be, in war, you find out what you are."  My sister said there's mystery throughout the book, who's the narrator at year 1995.  And I guessed correctly about 3/5 way through the book.  I think it's interesting that Vianne named her son after her father.   Her father was distant and yet at the end, showed his true love.   Maybe there's a connection?  

國旗到底是怎麼升上去的？

 國旗到底是怎麼升上去的？

劉平寬 

安徽省鳳陽縣人，民國二十三年生。 曾任臺北市立盲聾學校教師，現任臺北市立啟明學校教師。 著有： ｢ 盲人的故事」。 

錄自 錦繡天地好文章 張曉風主編

    那是我在盲啞學校執教的第三年。 有天夜裡， 我為一陣清亮甜脆的歌聲驚醒，聽得出來是好些孩子在齊聲唱。 細看夜光表，是深夜兩點。 奇怪！ 是那些孩子如此豪情， 竟半夜三更到校園裡去唱歌？ 我自己的視力也很弱，仔細傾聽了一下，聽出來是低年級的小盲生，在那裡唱升旗歌。 

    

｢國旗！國旗！

迎著朝陽，冉冉升起；

臨風招展，多麼美麗。

青天白日滿地紅，

和平博愛敬大同。

國旗！ 國旗！

冉冉升起， 多麼美麗；

我們愛您，向您敬禮。」

    這首歌， 記得是上星期我才教會他們的。 但無論如何現在是半夜兩點了，我想不通他們為什麼會在這時候大伙兒跑到操場上去唱這首歌。 

    我忍不住起床走下樓去，躲在椰子樹後，偷偷遠望。 這才發現四五個小盲生站在升旗臺上，圍著旗杆正嘰哩咕嚕地討論著什麼。 忽然，我聽見旗杆頂上有人興奮地大叫：

    ｢摸到了！ 摸到了！ 是一個小輪子啊！」

    下面另一個小盲生也等不及地叫：

    ｢該我了！ 你快下來，該我爬上去看了。｣ 

    我很著急想制止他們，又不敢大聲喊叫，萬一旗杆頂上的盲生聽到老師來了，嚇得鬆了手掉下來，不是更糟了嗎？ 可是不喊叫，小孩子也可能自己掉下來。 任何小孩爬旗杆都是一件危險的事。 更何況他們是瞎眼的小孩； 而此刻又是午夜兩點。 

    過了好一會兒，等旗杆頂上的那個盲生慢慢滑下來了，我才走過去，叫住正要接著往上爬的一位。 

    ｢ 小朋友，你們幹甚麼？｣ 我急忙說 ｢ 你們不知道半夜沒人的時候來爬這樣細的旗杆是多麼危險的事嗎？ 如果跌下來怎麼辦呢？｣ 

    ｢ 老師，我們盲生沒有升過旗。。。｣ 

    ｢ 我不是在上課的時候讓你們摸過國旗了嗎？ 你們不是摸過白日的十二道光芒嗎？ 你們不是曉得青天、白日、滿地紅的位置嗎？ 你們不是知道他所代表的自由、平等、博愛的意思嗎？｣ 

    ｢可是，老師，學校只讓我們參加升旗典禮。。。｣ 

     ｢ 老師， 我們知道聽到有人喊口令，聽到樂隊在奏樂，同學在唱國歌，我們還是一直不知道升旗是怎麼一回事？｣ 

    ｢所以，老師， 我們偷偷半夜爬起來，想站在升旗臺上，爬到旗杆上，摸摸國旗到底是怎麼升上去的。｣ 

    我把小盲生趕回去睡了，自己卻久久不能成眠。 國旗到底是怎樣升上去的？ 怎樣在我們的國度上飄揚的？ 明眼人曾否比小小的盲生付出更多的關懷呢？

    

    後記： 多年前，我曾在一本兒童故事書裡提過這段故事，今蒙曉風女士鼓勵，重新將之整理，一方面也把過程寫得更詳細些。 

    我現在仍在該校執教，自己也由弱視變為全盲，我比從前更了解我的盲生了。 此文由我點字，小女改成一般文字。 

    現在的盲生已和聾啞生分開，獨立為啟明學校，制度上允許盲童用摸索的方法生旗，並由弱視的孩子喊口令。  (錄者註： 此書【錦繡天地好文章】的版本是民國七十一年，第三版)

附註： 有時候會查一查現在作者的狀況看到一個去年的新聞，放上來希望了解，這些事情和人都在我們身邊不遠處，能讀到這些故事是一種幸福，也是一種醒悟，處處還是有溫暖。

南大88歲劉平寬校友 用歌聲感恩母校

劉平寬校友生於安徽鳳陽，原就讀蚌埠天主教崇正女中，時逢徐蚌會戰而停課，跟隨流亡，一路輾轉經南京、杭州、湖南衡山再南下廣州、隨孫立人將軍之女青年隊來臺。來臺後，就讀本校(臺南師範)44級幼師科畢業，於臺北啟明學校任教41年退休。劉校友熱愛音樂與歌唱，與歌樂作曲家李健結為連理，育有「樂，韻、聲、琴」兩兒兩女，她30歲時雖因眼疾失明，憑著對歌唱的喜愛，在先夫的鼓勵下，赴香港盲人音樂訓練所(音樂家邵光主持)修習聲樂，事師趙梅伯教授，返臺任教將音樂的美好傳遞給莘莘學子。

  高齡88歲的劉校友為感念母校培育之恩，特地返校參加畢業65週年級友聯誼會，並舉行中文藝術歌曲演唱會，曲目有《偶然》、《問》、《陽關三疊》等，以及大提琴、長笛、二胡獨奏及三重奏，由其子女與門生協同演出，精彩可期。歡迎音樂同好一起前來聆聽，當日(12月26日)下午1時40分起免費入場，為落實防疫，14日內有發燒或類流感等疑似症狀者，以及有疫情流行地區旅遊史或確診病例接觸史者請勿參加，參加者採實名制入場，並請自備口罩全程佩戴。

台南大學

first love, kids

 妞子的 ｢初戀｣

李欣

錄自極短篇三。聯合報叢書

    一天， 九歲的嬌女兒回家，忸怩不安地叫著：

    ｢媽。。。｣ 她看來比平常多了幾分嬌氣，小粉臉紅紅的。

    ｢什麼事？｣ 我正在廚房剝大蒜。

    ｢沒有，算了！｣ 她一溜煙跑了。

      晚飯後，手上的蒜味多少洗掉了，倒沒能洗去女兒 ｢異常｣ 表現所帶來的不安。 自問雖不是賢妻，卻常自封為良母，於是找到在她房間內塗塗畫畫的女兒：

    ｢剛才你好像有什麼話要跟我說的。。。｣ 我用了心理學家建議的開場白。 

    ｢。。。｣ 小臉上又飛起了紅雲。

    ｢說吧，什麼事？｣ 還是這法子比較直接了當。

    ｢你發誓不告訴哥哥！｣ 她說。 

    ｢我發誓！ 我發誓！｣

    ｢噓，小聲點。｣ 

    ｢好，小聲！ 小聲！｣

    ｢伊曼諾。。。好像喜歡我。｣ 她說。

    ｢噢！｣ 我用著最若無其事的語氣，｢ 伊曼諾是誰？｣ 

    ｢ 我班上的男生。｣ 

    ｢ 噢！｣ 

    ｢ 他跟別的男生不一樣，他不罵人，也不髒，他說我們女生很乖，我更乖。。。｣

    ｢ 對， 更乖。｣ 我說。

    ｢ 你知道嗎，他也有一隻印度豬 (天竺鼠也) ， 他說要來看我的豬。。。｣ 

    ｢ 什麼時候來？｣ 

    ｢ 不知道！｣ 

    談話到此終結，看來妞子認為沒有必要再談下去， 我也 ｢ 知趣｣ 地退出她房間， 並帶了滿腦子的問號： 伊曼紐， 印度豬。。。

    第二天放學後，妞子身後多了一個影子， 是個比她矮半個頭， 長了一頭捲髮， 拖了兩筒鼻涕 (的確不髒) 的小男生。 他手裡捧了個毛茸茸的東西--- 他的 ｢豬｣。 兩個人吱吱喳喳地說著，做著功課，喝著果汁，吃著零食；這樣持續了幾個星期後，伊曼諾不見了，女兒往日的 ｢好友｣ 凱倫、麗地西亞等又恢復了她們原有的地位。  

    我終於忍不住了。

    ｢ 妞子，伊曼諾呢？｣

    ｢伊曼諾？｣ 

    ｢ 對， 那個男生。｣ 

    ｢ 噢， 他！｣ 女兒嘆了口氣， ｢ 他變壞了！｣ 

    ｢噢？｣ 

    ｢ 他罵我們是肥肥胖胖的臭土豆！｣ 

    ｢噢？｣ 

    ｢ 我們罵他是又臭又髒的大笨豬！｣ 女兒說著又嘆了口氣， ｢唉， 他跟別的男生一樣壞了！｣ 

    一場轟轟烈烈的 ｢ 初戀｣ 就這樣無疾而終。 

    記得自己小時候， 小學男女分班，中學男女分校。 到了大學，突然間不但男女同校，甚至可以同坐一條長板凳， 這種自由， 使人頓覺眼花撩亂、手足無措。 對待 ｢ 男生  ｣ ， 或是拿出孫二娘的本領， 張牙舞抓、磨刀霍霍； 或是語無倫次、呆若木雞， 如此這般地折騰了不知多少年， 竟也結了婚， 回想起來， 雖有驚無險， 但總覺那時候的教育方法，虧欠了我些什麼！

    女兒似乎初嘗 ｢幻滅 ｣ 的滋味， 或許這種早期的 ｢感染 ｣ ， 會增加以後歲月中地 ｢免疫力｣ 吧！

六十九年十月二十二日

Wedding invitation

 喜帖

王清元

錄自極短篇三。聯合報叢書

    ｢是陳重流先生嫁女兒的帖子。｣ 忍不住問： ｢媽，陳重流是誰？｣

    陳免多受震撼般，並沒馬上回答兒子的問話。 慶堂追問，她才驚醒道：｢是你二舅！ 阿母生母彼邊的二舅。｣

    ｢哦---，二舅哦？ 二舅是二舅，對面都不相識！｣

    她心痛如絞，不能怪兒子說話沒天理，事實上他確實不認識。 近二十年來---從丈夫生意失敗，搬到小城居住--- 他二哥從沒來過，甚至過門而不入。 她深知二哥仰上不垂下，所以當她知道二哥過門不入，為了自尊，為使子女得免身受，他* 發誓有生之年，竭力使 ｢家｣ 所寸進。 

    她生母生有七子五女，她是四女， 所以名叫 ｢免多｣，妹妹叫 ｢氣足｣。 她生沒四十天即送為養女。 白雲悠悠幻如蒼狗，兄弟姐妹間有逝去的，有離鄉生活的。 近二十年來，念著手足之情而往來的，她兒子當然認得誰是排行第幾的舅舅、姨媽。

    ｢要不要去？ 還是寄個紅包？｣ 慶堂問。 心中有為母親抱屈的感覺。 

    ｢當然去！｣ 陳免多挺挺胸，呼口氣道：｢以前你二舅不認我這小妹，我就嘸驚人批評。 現在伊記得有小妹，我哪能不知伊是二兄？ 我還要帶你去，還讓你認識二舅。｣

六十九年五月二十九日

新詩。 遺書羅葉

翻看自己的網誌，看到一首新，讀了讀，實在令我快樂。  在網路上找找作者，竟發現他已過世，可惜。  看到這首詩，鈔下來，希望別忘記。   

遺書 ◎‪羅葉‬

　
有一天你或許悲泣
但別崩潰成散亂的拼圖
我無法湊齊破碎的你
果真你竟笑了出來
那也同樣令我愉快
我們的友誼無關乎生命的存在
　
你可以把我忘記
但別將我深埋在心底
因我盼望作一次火浴
之後隨風飄散我的剩餘
無須葬禮，不用墳場
你知道的，我喜歡流浪
　
若有音樂，哼我愛聽的那曲
若有醇酒，斟我嗜飲的一杯
也許為我出薄薄的詩集
但不必寫長長的序
追求的我已空無所有
這秩序繽紛的世界
就留給你整理
　
若有久別的朋友來尋
請轉告他們我去哪裡
此後可有人間的消息已無妨
我只是掛念你
　
--
　
◎詩人簡介

　
羅葉，本名羅元輔，1965年生，台灣宜蘭人，早在建國中學擔任校刊《建中青年》編輯時期，開始大量閱讀現代詩，從瘂弦到余光中，並開始創作，寫下〈蟬的發芽〉，「…時間正潛沉如殼如罈之胸懷／我在時間的胸懷中隱隱膨脹，默默數聽／默默中我將在冷冷之上／更高的秩序中生長」。
　
1983年進入台大後，逐漸展露才華。大三時，主編台灣大學法學院刊物《台大法言》，並投身台大學運，創辦地下刊物《自由之愛》，其創刊詞「讓我們嘗試檢驗真理的體質／就在土生土長的這塊土地上／我們什麼都該重新認識／百分百的自由與／沒有仿冒的愛」，揭示他對社會正義的堅持與追求。
　
羅葉先後任職於《南方》、《民進報》、《新新聞》、《自立晚報》、《香港明報》等，並曾於華岡藝校、永和社大、宜蘭社大，作品散見於各報藝文版，曾獲全國學生文學獎、教育部文藝創作獎、聯合報文學獎新詩大獎、中央日報文學獎、中國時報新詩獎、林榮三文學獎新詩首獎等。
　
1998年，羅葉因遺傳性宿疾併發腦中風，腦部手術後，返回鄉宜蘭養病，再回到教室，教授閱讀和寫作。最後，用僅剩餘的生命參與創辦宜蘭慈心華德福教育實驗國民中小學，用鋤頭、用文字，耕耘出一處樸質、自由的校園，直到2010年初病逝。

Poems from Out of Africa

Rose-lipped maidens, light foot lads

(It's from A. E. Housman's Shropshire Lad:

With rue my heart is laden

For golden friends I had,

For many a rose-lipt maiden

And many a lightfoot lad.

By brooks too broad for leaping

The lightfoot boys are laid;

The rose-lipt girls are sleeping

In fields where roses fade.)

----------------------------

The Last monologue:

Mail has come today and a friend writes this to me:

The Masai have reported to the district commissioner of Ngong    

that many times at sunrise and sunset

they have seen lions on Finch Hatton's grave.

A lion and a lioness have come there

and stood, or lain on the grave for a long time.  

After you went away,

the ground around the grave was leveled out

into sort of a terrace.

I suppose the level place 

makes a good site for the lions.

From there they have a view over the plain,

and the cattle and game on it.

Denys will like that.

I must remember to tell him.  

-----------------------------------------------

Karen read the poem at the funeral:

To an Athlete dying young by AE Houseman
The time you won your town the race  
We chaired you through the market-place;  
Man and boy stood cheering by,  
And home we brought you shoulder-high.  
  
To-day, the road all runners come,    
Shoulder-high we bring you home,  
And set you at your threshold down,  
Townsman of a stiller town.  
  
Smart lad, to slip betimes away  
From fields where glory does not stay, 
And early though the laurel grows  
It withers quicker than the rose.  
  
Eyes the shady night has shut  
Cannot see the record cut,  
And silence sounds no worse than cheers 
After earth has stopped the ears:  
  
Now you will not swell the rout  
Of lads that wore their honours out,  
Runners whom renown outran  
And the name died before the man. 
  
So set, before its echoes fade,  
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,  
And hold to the low lintel up  
The still-defended challenge-cup.  
  
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,  
And find unwithered on its curls  
The garland briefer than a girl’s.

Then Karen Continued:

Now take back the soul of Denys goerge finch hatton

whom you have shared with us 

he brought us joy and we loved him well

he was not ours

he was not mine.  

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Laugh loud and long all the while his eyes went to and fro

ha ha says he, full flame the devil knows how to roll

farewell farewell but this i tell thee the wedding guest

he prayth well who loved well

both man the bird and the beast (not a complete rendition... the complete rendition was below in bold)

(The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772 - 1834)

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.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.

And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.

It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!

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!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'

'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!--
Why look'st thou so?'--With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS.

PART II
The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariner's hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:

Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.

And some in dreams assurèd were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.

PART III
There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was 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 last
A 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;
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,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With 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 gossameres?

Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's mate?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out;
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.

We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew did drip--
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The hornèd Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

The souls did from their bodies fly,--
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow!

PART IV
'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.

I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'--
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt not down.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
Lay dead like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

The moving Moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside--

Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charmèd water burnt alway
A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessèd them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

The self-same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.

PART V
Oh 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.

The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
I was so light--almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.

And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.

The upper air burst into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge,
And the rain poured down from one black cloud;
The Moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.

The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.

'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!'
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:

For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!

And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.

The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion--
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.

Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.

'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless Albatross.

The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.'

The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.'

PART VI
'But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing--
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing?'

'Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast--

If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'

'But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?'

'The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner's trance is abated.'

I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapt: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen--

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring--
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
On me alone it blew.

Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?

We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray--
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.

The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.

A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck--
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.

This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;

This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart--
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the Pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a boat appear.

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.

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 neared: 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 answered not our cheer!
The planks looked warped! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were

Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.'

'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look--
(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared'--'Push on, push on!'
Said the Hermit cheerily.

The boat came closer to the ship,
But I nor spake nor stirred;
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.

Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.

I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see,
The Devil knows how to row.'

And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
The Hermit crossed his brow.
'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say--
What manner of man art thou?'

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.

What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding-guests are there:
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bride-maids singing are:
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer!

O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!--

To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.

The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.)