The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

“The Sun now rose upon the right:Out of the sea came he,Still hid in mist, and on the leftWent down into the sea.And the good south wind still blew behindBut no sweet bird did follow,Nor any day for food or playCame to the mariners' hollo!And I had done an hellish thing,And it would work ‘em woe:For all averred, I had killed the birdThat made the breeze to blow.Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slayThat made the breeze to blow!”