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The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 1-11



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Originally uploaded by Smithsonian Institution



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

“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.”

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