 | Sonnets Round the Coast |  |
144
XVIII. THE ENCHANTED CASTLE
BETWEEN SALTBURN AND WHITBY.
When rockcliffe's walls are reddening with the eve,And Staithes' bold fishers steer toward the night,
A stately castle on a foreland height
Rises with towers and bastions make-believe:
Then, round their cabin fires the sailors weave
Tales of the haunted hold that no sea-fight
Could storm; for back to stone, before men's sight,
The cliffs those fairy ramparts would receive.
Along the sea-board of our lives there stand
Gaunt castles, phantom forts of empty show,
Once garrisoned with thought, now turned to stone;
But not the magic evening's after-glow
Can break the charm and bid the towers be manned:
The seas roar dark beneath, “Hope, hope is gone!”
| Sonnets Round the Coast | |