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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.
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BOOK VI. SONNETS OF THE NORTH-EAST COAST.
collapse sectionVII. 
BOOK VII.
expand sectionI. 
Part I SONNETS OF THE YORKSHIRE COAST—SALTBURN.
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Part II. SONNETS OF THE YORKSHIRE COAST-RUNSWICK BAY.
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Part III. SONNETS OF THE YORKSHIRE COAST—WHITBY.
 I. 
I. THE SORROW OF THE SEA.
 II. 
II. WHITBY.
 III. 
III. SAINT HILDA.
 IV. 
IV. BY THE ESK AT WHITBY.
 V. 
V. A CONTRAST: WHITBY.
 VI. 
VI. A MEMORY OF CAEDMON, WHITBY.
 VII. 
VII. SUNRISE AT WHITBY.
 VIII. 
VIII. A SUNSET AT WHITBY.
 IX. 
IX. WHITBY ABBEY.
 X. 
X. WHITBY ABBEY.
 XI. 
XI. AFTER THE HERRINGS, WHITBY.
 XII. 
XII. HERRINGS FINE!
 XIII. 
XIII. IN THE UPPER HARBOUR, WHITBY.
 XIV. 
XIV. THE BELL BUOY AT THE HARBOUR MOUTH, WHITBY.
 XV. 
XV. ON THE HARBOUR PIER, WHITBY.
 XVI. 
XVI. LIGHTS ON WHITBY CHURCH STAIRS.
 XVII. 
XVII. SAINT HILDA'S LIGHTS.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. SUNSET LIGHTS ON THE WINDOWS OF SAINT MARY'S CHURCH, WHITBY.
 XIX. 
XIX. THE SIX O'CLOCK BELL, WHITBY.
 XX. 
XX. THE JET WORKER.
 XXI. 
XXI. THE WHITBY BELLS.
 XXII. 
XXII. SERVICE IN THE OLD PARISH CHURCH, WHITBY.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. DROWNED BY THE UPSETTING OF THE LIFE-BOAT, OCTOBER 6, 1841.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. FAREWELL TO WHITBY.
 XXV. 
XXV. THE PENNY HEDGE.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. THE BEGGAR'S BRIDGE, GLAISDALE.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. ON A MOORLAND RAILWAY.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. PICKERING MOOR,
 XXIX. 
XXIX. LILLA CROSS.
 XXX. 
XXX. GOATHLAND.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. IN GLAISDALE WOOD.
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Part iv. SONNETS OF THE YORKSHIRE COAST—SCARBOROUGH.
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BOOK VIII. SONNETS OF THE LINCOLNSHIRE COAST.

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169

VII. SUNRISE AT WHITBY.

Rich orange flushed the pale horizon's bar,
Yet dark and unawakened lay the town
Without a breath of smoke, while Esk ran down
Beneath the glory of a single star;
The good wives slept, the fisher-boats were far:
You could not think that care was ever known
On yonder dreaming slope; no hint was shown
Of what laborious dawns and daylights are.
But still the planet wheeled to work and woe,
The orange faded fast to common light,
And that mysterious Abbey stood forlorn—
A hopeless ruin in the fuller morn;
An anxious boat went moving to and fro,
The smoke-wreaths rose, the sails were all in sight.
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