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Sonnets Round the Coast

by H. D. Rawnsley
Rawnsley, H. D. (1851-1920)
  
[dedication]

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[section]
expand sectionI. 
BOOK I. SONNETS OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT AND SOUTH COAST.
expand sectionII. 
BOOK II. SONNETS OF THE CORNISH COASTS.
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BOOK III. SONNETS OF THE BRISTOL CHANNEL.
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BOOK IV. SONNETS OF THE WELSH COAST.
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BOOK V. SONNETS OF THE LANCASHIRE AND CUMBERLAND COASTS.
 I. 
I. EAST AND WEST.
 II. 
II. THE TOWER ON THE HOAD, ULVERSTON.
 III. 
III. A LAUNCH FROM THE FURNESS DOCKS.
 IV. 
IV. BLACK COMBE.
 V. 
V. ESKMEALS.
 VI. 
VI. AT KING HENRY'S CHAPEL, MUNCASTER.
 VII. 
VII. A QUIET AUTUMN DAY,
 VIII. 
VIII. AT MUNCASTER,
 IX. 
IX. THE DEATH OF OLAF THE DANE—
 X. 
X. HOME FROM THE EAST.
 XI. 
XI. THE LIGHT-SHIP, SEEN FROM SEASCALE.
 XII. 
XII. THE DRUID STONE NEAR MILLBECK, SEASCALE.
 XIII. 
XIII. BRAVE SAILING.
 XIV. 
XIV. AT SEASCALE.
 XV. 
XV. THE PREACHER'S SEASIDE LESSON.
 XVI. 
XVI. THE OLD WRECK AT SEASCALE.
 XVII. 
XVII. THE IRISH LAND LEAGUE.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. ROCK RUINS AT SEASCALE.
 XIX. 
XIX. THE GOSFORTH CROSS.
 XX. 
XX. SEASCALE MEMORIES.
 XXI. 
XXI. THE PEACE OF UNDERSTANDING.
 XXII. 
XXII. ARCHBISHOP GRINDAL,
 XXIII. 
XXIII. TOMB OF THOMAS DE COTTINGHAM,
 XXIV. 
XXIV. BEOWULF'S STONE, SAINT BEES.
 XXV. 
XXV. THE SNOW MIRACLE,
 XXVI. 
XXVI. THE FORESTER'S. TOMB, SAINT BEES.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. SAINT BEES.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. SEA-COTE, SAINT BEES.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. SEA-GULLS AT SAINT BEES.
 XXX. 
XXX. THE LARK ON TOMLINE HEAD.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. A DOUBTFUL MAY.
 XII. 
XII. MUSIC OF TWO WORLDS, SAINT BEES HEAD.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. THE IMPERISHABLE GOSPEL.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. THE GLADNESS OF THE SEA.
expand sectionVI. 
BOOK VI. SONNETS OF THE NORTH-EAST COAST.
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BOOK VII.
expand sectionVIII. 
BOOK VIII. SONNETS OF THE LINCOLNSHIRE COAST.

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159

XIII. THE MULGRAVE STREAM.

You ask me why o'er bridges to and fro
Across the stream, by banks of fern and shale,
I still must haunt green Mulgrave's woody vale,
Where Caedmon wandered centuries ago—
It is because the solemnest sounds that flow
By constant utterance, of their awe must fail,
That still the sweetest oft-recurrent tale
Palls on the heart that has refused to know.
But here the streamlet runs, not ever clear,
As if it hid the meaning of its tone,
And whether men will have it yea or nay,
Behold, it murmurs, Earth shall melt away,
Thought and sincerest song abide alone,
Be true and think and sing and have no fear.
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