kubla kahn
in xanadu did kubla kahn
so twice five miles of fertile ground
but oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
and from this chasm with ceaseless turmoil seething,
five miles meandering with mazy motion
the shadow of the dome of pleasure
a damsel with a dulcimer
to such a deep delight 'twould win me, about this poem:
i just love it & had to post it. if a novice tries to follow the rhyme scheme of this poem, they'll get lost in it. it's too complicated for a beginner...but the words are incredible.
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(or, a vision in a dream)
samuel taylor coleridge
a stately pleasure dome decree
where alph, the sacred river ran
through caverns measureless to man
down to a sunless sea
with walls and towers were girdled round,
and there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
and here were forests ancient as the hills,
enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
down the green hill athwart a cerdern cover!
a savage place! as holy and enchanted
as e're beneath a waning moon was haunted
by woman wailing for her demon lover!
as if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
a mighty fountain momently was forced:
amid whose swift, half-intermittent burst.
huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail
or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
and 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever,
it flung up momently the sacred river!
through wood and dale the sacred river ran
then reached the caversn measureless to man,
and sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean.
and 'mid this tumult kubla heard from far
ancestral voices prophesying war!
floated midway on the waves,
where was heard with mingled measure
from the fountain and the caves.
it was a miracle of rare device,
a sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
in a vision i once say:
it was an abyssinian maid,
and on her dulcimer she played,
singing of mount abora.
could i revive within me
her symphony and song?
that with music loud and long
i would build that dome in the air,
that sunny dome! those caves of ice!
and all who heard should see it there,
and all should cry, beware! beware!
his flashing eyes! his floating hair!
weave a circle round him thrice
and close your eyes with holy dread,
for he on honey-dew hath fed
and drunk the milk of paradise.