Martin Fan Bureau

Home -- Blog -- EastWesterly Review -- Take2 -- Martin Fan Bureau -- Fonts a Go-Go -- Games -- Film Project -- Villagers -- Graveyard

Custom Search

Martin
Fan Bureau

Art Gallery
Ask Martin Van Buren
Dancin' Van Buren
Lies
Literary History
Fan Bureau Home

Get e-mail when we update our site. Your e-mail:
Powered by NotifyList.com
help support us -- shop through this Amazon link!

© 1999-2016
Postmodern Village
e-mail * terms * privacy

Martin Khan
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
1797

In Lindenwald did Martin Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Kinderhook, the sacred creek, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
    Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here 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.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were walking,
A mighty fountain momently was forced;
Amid whose swift half-intermitted 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.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred creek ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Martin heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying civil war!

    The shadow of the dome of pleasure
    Floated midway on the waves:
    Where was heard the mingled measure
    From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

    A damsel with a dulcimer
    In a vision once I saw:
    It was an Mississippi maid,
    And on her dulcimer she played,
    Singing of Atlanta.
    Could I revive within me
    Her symphony and song,
    To such a deep delight 't would win me
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
Martin's flashing eyes, Martin's 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.

 

 

Table of Tour Contents
Stop 1: Herrick
Stop 2: Smart
Stop 3: Blake
Stop 4: Coleridge
Stop 5: Shelley
Stop 6: Poe
Stop 7: EB Browning
Stop 8: Tennyson
Stop 9: Dickinson
Stop 10: WC Williams
Stop 11: LFO