Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! No richer gift has Autumn poured AIRSHIPS (See AERONAUTICS) And a good south wind sprung up behind, And every day, for food or play, Came to the mariner's hollo! "God save thee, ancient Mariner! From the fiends that plague thee thus! Why look'st thou so?"-"With my cross-bow I shot the Albatross." COLERIDGE-Ancient Mariner. Pt. I. St. 18. |