 | Sonnets Round the Coast |  |
151
V. HINDERWELL.
Here in God's Acre since Saint Hilda firstDrank at this spring and set the Cross hard by,
The village, century after century,
Has come to quench at morn and eve its thirst;
And he who drinks not of it is accursed
In barn and field, he cannot sell nor buy;
Nor ever has this fountain head run dry,
Since from the rock the spring baptismal burst.
And here when lips no more cool water crave
They bring the dead for rest beside the well,
And they who through the long day's heat had come
Light-handed and returned with burden home,
Come hither weary laden, and may tell
How grief can drink of hope beside a grave.
| Sonnets Round the Coast | |