It's bizarre to think that in my long life I had never managed to read all of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. To be fair, it's one of those works which gave us so many familiar passages that the average person would never even associated with the poem: "Water, water, everywhere,/Nor any drop to drink," or "A sadder and a wiser man/He rose the morrow morn," or "He prayeth best, who loveth best/All things both great and small," or "And till my ghastly tale is told,/This heart within my burns." Some classic works don't age well, but, especially in this horrible, heartless age, Coleridge's message continues to resonate.
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