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" This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that... "
The poetical works of S.T. Coleridge - Page 23
by Samuel Taylor [poetical works] Coleridge - 1835
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Gleanings from the Poets for Home and School

1858 - 460 pages
...How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve, — He hath...rotted old oak-stump. The skiff-boat neared : I heard tl em talk, " Why, this is strange, I row ! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made...
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The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: With an ..., Volume 7

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1858 - 792 pages
...How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with mariners That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a...moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The skiff- boat neared : I heard them talk, " Why, this is strange, I trow ! Where are those lights so...
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The National Magazine: Devoted to Literature, Art, and Religion, Volume 12

Abel Stevens, James Floy - 1858 - 588 pages
...loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with mariuercs That come from a far countree. " He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a...plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump. " The skiff-boat near'd : I heard them talk, •Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are...
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The National Magazine, Volume 12

Abel Stevens, James Floy - 1858 - 610 pages
...rotted old oak stump. " The skiff-boat near'd : I heard them talk, ' Why, this is strange, I trow I Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal...now " " ' Strange, by my faith !' the hermit said — ' And they answer'd not our cheer. The planks look'd warp'd I and see those sails, How thin they...
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The Poetical and Dramatic Works of S. T. Coleridge: With a Life of ..., Volume 1

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1861 - 448 pages
...That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion/f>lump : It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump....made but now ? ' ' Strange, by my faith ! the Hermit Approach7 ' ' eth the ship Said with wonThe planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they...
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A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

Thomas Shorter - 1861 - 438 pages
...loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. " He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a...wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. " The skiff-boat near'd : I heard them talk, ' Why, this is strange, I trow 1 Where are those lights, so many and fair,...
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The poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ed. by D. and S. Coleridge

Samuel Taylor [poetical works] Coleridge - 1863 - 510 pages
...How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a...lights so many and fair, That signal made but now ? ' Approach- ' Strange, by my faith ! ' the Hermit said — eth the ship Z j >. , with wonder. And...
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The Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1863 - 446 pages
...How loudly his sweet voice he rears ' He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a...lights so many and fair, That signal made but now ? ' Approach- ' Strange, by my faith ! ' the Hermit said — eth the ship , . . ° ' •> J with wonder....
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Favourite English Poems: Thomson to Tennyson, 1700-1860

1863 - 392 pages
...loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. " He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a...: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump. " The skiff-boat neared, I heard them talk. ' Why, this is strange, I trow I Where are those...
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Littell's Living Age, Volume 76

1863 - 640 pages
...calmly on his bed of fern, feeding on his pulse and cresses, and drinking the water from the brook. " He kneels at morn and noon and eve, He hath a cushion plump, It ¡s the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump." But the hermits of Mar Saba, how different...
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