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Stephen Crane

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And--this time--

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verb

To make to agree or correspond; to suit one thing to another; to adjust.

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II.

58 lines
he Sun came up upon the right,Out of the Sea came he;And broad as a weft upon the leftWent down into the Sea. And the good south wind still blew behind,But no sweet Bird did followNe any day for food or playCame to the Marinere’s hollo! And I had done an hellish thingAnd it would work ’em woe:For all averr’d, I had kill’d the BirdThat made the Breeze to blow. Ne dim ne red, like God’s own head,The glorious Sun uprist:Then all averr’d, I had kill’d the BirdThat brought the fog and mist.’Twas right, said they, such birds to slayThat bring the fog and mist. The breezes blew, the white foam flew,The furrow follow’d free:We were the first that ever burstInto that silent Sea. Down dropt the breeze, the Sails dropt down,’Twas sad as sad could beAnd we did speak only to breakThe silence of the Sea. All in a hot and copper skyThe bloody sun at noon,Right up above the mast did stand,No bigger than the moon. Day after day, day after day,We stuck, ne breath ne motion,As idle as a painted ShipUpon a painted Ocean. Water, water, every whereAnd all the boards did shrink;Water, water, every where,Ne any drop to drink. The very deeps did rot: O Christ!That ever this should be!Yea, slimy things did crawl with legsUpon the slimy Sea. About, about, in reel and routThe Death-fires danc’d at night;The water, like a witch’s oils,Burnt green and blue and white. And some in dreams assured wereOf the Spirit that plagued us so:Nine fathom deep he had follow’d usFrom the Land of Mist and Snow. And every tongue thro’ utter drouthWas wither’d at the root;We could not speak no more than ifWe had been choked with soot. Ah wel-a-day! what evil looksHad I from old and young;Instead of the Cross the AlbatrossAbout my neck was hung.