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Sonnets Round the Coast

by H. D. Rawnsley
  

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199

III. BAY TOWN.

In the curved bay, where resonantly flow
The north sea tides, and wondrous echo brings
The noise of ships that, borne on cloudy wings,
Pant round the headlands, red the roof-trees glow;
Homes of the fisher, built how sailors know,
With intricate care, and close up-shoulderings.
Men-martlets they, the sons of robber kings,
Norseman and Dane, and Robin of the bow.
So planned and fashioned on their bank of shale
Village and cliff are one, each open door
A tiny gate to undiscovered caves.
And when the sun has sunk behind the moor
The cottage eyes flash fire, and o'er the waves
House whispers house the smuggler's oft-told tale.