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Sonnets Round the Coast

by H. D. Rawnsley
  

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XXXI. A DOUBTFUL MAY.
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XXXI. A DOUBTFUL MAY.

TOMLINE HEAD, SAINT BEES.

The thrift's rose-jewelled caskets in the wind
To 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.