Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, like restless gossameres?

[ithika]

Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as though through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a Death? and are there two?
Is Death that woman's mate?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was white as leprosy

The Night-mare Life-In-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark ;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.

My favourite part of The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Taylor Colridge.
(It's my favourite poem)

By the way that last entry was yesterday's entry, and also I only have two drawings to go.