the cottage, the old mother's tears when he left her without one grain
of sorrow; the village church and its simple chimes; the clover field
hard by in which he lay and gambolled, while the lark praised God
overhead; the chubby playmates that never grew to be wicked, the sweet
hours of youth--and innocence--and home.

Charles Reade: "It is Never Too Late to Mend."




THE ANCIENT MARINER


It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
"By thy long gray beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din."

He holds him with his skinny hand,
"There was a ship," quoth he.
"Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard, loon!"
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye--