The Ancient Mariner I have always moved from the world of men To the cold ethereal sea with frost bitten dregs The bird's sedge sings a soliloquy Till the stones cover the moorlands of heaven The land is sparse flat and scarcely smiles Bidden by finches song which abide in brine And the dry crust of hills fall from hamlets To solidify The skin of stoned cliffs on the garnet's edge. The sea has been my companion this wretched outcast My self has laughed and dried my eyes Incorrigible with cracked foam When the swan ceases to sing. More weary eyed each day I become Till the men from the land Show up with their trophies A killed sea monster, I pass ignoring Their clamour and song to cold afflicted sea Which I do not carry in my withered veins Under piles of pitiless pleas without a grain.