As you may or may not know, I enjoy the pursuit of creativity. That is not the same thing as saying that I do it well, but I am convinced that Christians must regain an appreciation for the arts in light of and for the Gospel. To that end, I take some time to highlight the pursuit of creativity here on Fridays. I link to the photography of Joe Kennedy, Will Turner, Timmy Brister, Joe Thorn and Steve McCoy, along with the Friday Flickr Group in which they participate. I also highlight a poet who may or may not be Christian, but who above all, uses words well and I also highlight a musical artist (more often than not instrumental since that�s primarily what I listen to) who makes at least one track available for free and legal download.

Sorry, no music this week, just poetry. I was trying to track down links by a couple of different artists but couldn’t find anything good to use so we’ll just do poetry today.

This week’s featured poet is actually, in a sene, a continuation of last week’s post featuring William Wordsworth. Wordsworth, along with this week’s featured poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) is often credited with being at the fore of the Romantic period of English literature. His two most famous poems are most likely “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” and this week’s poem Kubla Kahn.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ‘twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

• Visit Wikipedia’s page dedicated to Samuel Taylor Coleridge
• Read Coleridge for yourself