moving Moon went up the sky－ And no where did abide: Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside－
Her beams becmocked the sultry main, Like April hoar-frost spread; But where the ship’s huge shadow lay, The charmed water burnt away A still and awful red.
Beyong the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire: Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere” (1797-8)