With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head ,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow ,
And it grew wondrous cold :
And ice , mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen :
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken --
The ice was al between.
The ice was here ,the ice was here,
The ice was all round :
It cracked and growled , and roared and howled ,
Like noises in a swound .
------ S. T. Cloleridge
