Page:Lyrical Ballads (Coleridge).djvu/36

 Are her naked ribs, which fleck'd
 * The sun that did behind them peer?

And are those two all, all the crew,
 * That woman and her fleshless Pheere?

His bones were black with many a crack,
 * All black and bare, I ween;

Jet-black and bare, save where with rust Of mouldy damps and charnel crust
 * They're patch'd with purple and green,

Her lips are red, her looks are free,
 * Her locks are yellow as gold:

Her skin is as white as leprosy, And she is far liker Death than he;
 * Her flesh makes the still air cold.