 | Sonnets Round the Coast |  |
143
XVII. FROM WARSETT BROW.
Warm was the air, and on the salt sea windFloated the gift of fruit to upland corn;
From Fleeborough Hill to Roseberry, was borne
The same sure message of the Eternal Mind—
That whoso ploughs with honest sweat shall find
His pearls among the fallows. Then a horn
Hooted. I stood on Warsett Brow forlorn;
The woods were blighted and the pastures pined.
Like clustered giants, looking through fierce breath
And glaring hotly with wild jealous eyes,
Between the Vale of Saltburn and the Tees
Stood up the workers of the great plain's death;
Plutonic labour cursed the sunset skies,
And Cyclops' stithy smoke perplexed the seas.
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