I moved, 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 helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze up blew; The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, Where they were wont to do: They raised their limbs like lifeless tools-- We were a ghastly crew.
I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand, so brown."-- Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! This body dropt not down.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We could not laugh nor wail; Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, And cried, A sail! a sail!
Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a DEATH? and are there two? Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood! A man all light, a seraph-man, On every corse there stood.