Sonnets Round the Coast by H. D. Rawnsley |
I. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
III. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
V. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. | XXXI.
A DOUBTFUL MAY. |
XII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
VI. |
I. |
II. |
IV. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
VII. |
I. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
III. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
VIII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
Sonnets Round the Coast | ||
107
XXXI. A DOUBTFUL MAY.
TOMLINE HEAD, SAINT BEES.
The thrift's rose-jewelled caskets in the windTo fainter flowers each day are shaking free,
The larks are loud on Tomline Head for glee,
And eager school-boys down in Fleswick find
Rare primrose tufts, with violets, the pale kind
That take their colour from Saint Mona's sea:
With dazzling gold the gorse makes gay the lea,
The fragrant breezes have a May-day mind.
Inland o'er treeless wastes the cuckoo calls,
The new-sown fields are red from sky to sky,
But eastward, Skiddaw, like a winter ghost,
Gleams snowy cold, and hark! with bitter cry
The nesting mews upon the seaward wall
Wail, as if May and all spring hopes were lost.
Sonnets Round the Coast | ||