Page:Lyrical Ballads (Coleridge).djvu/45

 I mov'd and could not feel my limbs,
 * I was so light, almost

I thought that I had died in sleep,
 * And was a blessed Ghost.

The roaring wind! it roar'd far off,
 * It did not come anear;

But with its sound it shook the sails
 * That were so thin and sere.

The upper air bursts into life,
 * And a hundred fire-flags sheen

To and fro they are hurried about; And to and fro, and in and out
 * The stars dance on between.

The coming wind doth roar more loud;
 * The sails do sigh, like sedge:

The rain pours down from one black cloud
 * And the Moon is at its edge.