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          Kubla Khan
         A FRAGMENT. 

  by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 
  A stately pleasure dome decree :
  Where Alph, the sacred river, 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 there 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 breathing, 
  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 river ran, 
  Then reached the caverns measureless to man, 
  And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean : 
  And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 
  Ancestral voices prophesying 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 Abyssinian maid, 
  And on her dulcimer she played, 
  Singing of Mount Abora. 
  Could I revive within me 
  Her symphony and song, 
  To such a deep delight 'twould 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 ! 
  His flashing eyes, his 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. 

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