Poetry month

from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)

My mom used to paraphrase this last line a lot. She'd say, "Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink." I heard it a lot growing up. At one point, on a trip over the mountains as we drove past Blue Mesa Reservoir--about a 30 mile drive to get past it--one of us said, "Water, water everywhere, and all are drops to drink." So then every time we did that drive, we'd have to say that line.

When I got to high school and had to study the poem properly, I realized how totally inappropriate all this was, but by then it was too late. I still like the poem. And I never want to be shipwrecked.