By Coleridge, Samuel Taylor
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five
miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that
deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.