Coleridge frost at midnight - very
The infant is his son Hartley when aged 17 months. He finds time to himself as other members of the household are in bed. But instead of devoting time to composition he is caught in appreciating the stillness and the dying state of the fire and this becomes his centre of attention and detracts from other considerations. He shares these thoughts in conversation with the reader. The busyness of the village is asleep and is an inaudible background like a dream. The film is a piece of soot fluttering on the bar of the grate. The only thing that is alive. coleridge frost at midnight
Coleridge frost at midnight Video
Frost at Midnight by Samuel Taylor Coleridge - read by poet Arthur L WoodThe 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. Coleridge frost at midnight holds him with his glittering eye— The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens midnigght 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 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 coleridge frost at midnight ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foeColeridge frost at midnight 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!
For everyone, for ever
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 colerdge 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, Colerisge the white Moon-shine.
From the fiends, that plague thee thus! And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day coleridge frost at midnight 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! 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.
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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 frsot sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after coleridgr, 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 every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root; We could not speak, no more than if We had coleridge frost at midnight choked with soot. Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.
Each throat Was parched, click to see more glazed each eye. 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, coleridge frost at midnight took at last A certain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!]
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