Which, given the length of the thing, is hardly surprising.
He wrote it in seven parts and it comes in at a staggering 3835 words ... so anyone who ever managed to memorise it has my absolute admiration ... and sympathy ... because there must surely be better things to do.
However, this mammoth piece of literature (which I first came across during a third form English lesson) contains a couple of watery lines which are, indeed, memorable, and I daresay many people are familiar with them, or have heard them without realising they were from the longest poem Samuel T ever scribed.
After writing the lines "day after day, day after day, we stuck, nor breath nor motion" Mr Coleridge jotted "as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean".
And later on (several hundred words on) he wrote "water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink".
Which has been modified more simply to "and not a drop to drink".
I daresay there were legions of people in Havelock North who unfortunately may have become familiar with such a sentiment.
And to a degree those in Hastings and for a brief time Napier when the water was cleansed by the stuff you use to clean ... stuff.
Not that I could taste it.
Besides, I was talking to an old chap the other day and he said there was "stuff" in the water during the '40s and '50s around here and nobody gave it a second thought.
And a veteran of battles past on distant lands simply said "people don't know how lucky they are ... they're just gettin' soft".
So yes, water, water, everywhere, and it's rather interesting to note that there may be a Kiwi touch to Mr Coleridge's epic, because his tutor was a chap called William Wales and he was the astronomer on Captain James Cook's ship Resolution and had a strong relationship with Cook.
It is believed by many that he told Coleridge of his voyages through the South Pacific and the poet was inspired.
So yes, we had our water go slightly haywire back there for a while but all is on the mend, although now it is Waimarama's turn to taste it ... so to speak.
And we had water arrive at the very worst of times when a whole bunch of fired-up Aussies were in town for a spot of willow and leather fun.
That dose of water effectively cost nearly half a million bucks because it exposed some drainage woes at the park which will have to be remedied.
And then, after about 1000 days (well it seemed that way) of sunshine and winds, the much-needed rains arrived at what was arguably the very worst time of the year - the great Art Deco Festival.
Typical ... put on a cricket match or a major international tourism event and the clouds and their wishy-washy occupants will also book a seat.
And meanwhile, Christchurch frighteningly went without.
It's a rather remarkable thing, this thing called "water".
It is the one thing we need above all else (except maybe for the Ranfurly Shield but that's a very selective point).
It means a lot to us all, and especially the factories which produce chlorine - but let's not go there.
I shall depart with an un-epic ode of my own.
Water, water, everywhere,
It really makes me think,
For when I pull the plug out,
It all goes down the sink.
● Just had a text from someone called Samuel T Coleridge (apparently no relation).
It simply reads ... "idiot".
I'll drink to that.
