The mighty fountain is the fountain of poetry occurring in swift half-intermitted bursts.

Like the chaffy grain beneath the threshers flail, huge fragments of poetry are vaulted at random, to be transformed to dancing rocks, as the Poets imagination flung up the sacred river. Thoughts of harmonious madness come in fragments. But every moment happening is every moment lost and even the sacred river after five miles of mazy motion must sink to a lifeless ocean- the feel of poetry is for a moment and the human recognition of this moment is the transitoriness in time. It is the knowledge of this that the ancestral voices seem to be prophesying- since the dawn of perception, no poem could capture the poetry that is in the Poets imagination. In the second movement of the poem, the domes shadow falls half-way on the river...the mingled measure From the fountains and the caves It was a miracle of rare device A sunny pleasure dome with caves of ice The above lines are unsurpassed in portraying the supernatural- they portray the mingled measure, the marriage of fundamental opposites- life and death, creation and destruction and so on. these mingle under the shadow of the greater harmony- the crowning dome. It is a supernatural thing-a miracle of rare device, sunny but with caves of ice. However, the image of shadow suggests instability-between the desire and the spasm falls the shadow. In the last part Coleridge reaches out to the readers directly. Music is a common theme is the romantics, and the eternal music of the Abyssinian maid singing at Mt. Abora as if becomes the spirit of the song- the song resonates in the entire imagination of the poet and there is a regret when he says that Could I revive within me/her symphony and song, he would produce the dome in air, his everlasting imagination. If the poet could act out his vision he would appear as Apollo with flashing eyes and floating air, or the rising Orc, the fiery don of the new Beulah, or Nataraj, who had drunk the milk of paradise. The poet in his emotional frenzy would then frighten everybody with his unfamiliar form. Those who heard his song would then see his visionary creation for that is the inventive power of poetry. They can only manage a vicarious participation in the poets vision: And all who heard should see them there ...Beware! Beware!