 | Sonnets Round the Coast |  |
176
XIV. THE BELL BUOY AT THE HARBOUR MOUTH, WHITBY.
As if the sea were giving up her dead,And corse by corse to burial were borne,
I heard the buoy-bell out of darkness mourn,
And bitter were the doleful words it said:
It told of waves that closed above the head
Of men unshrieved, uncoffined, husbands torn
From wives, and children fatherless, forlorn;
Of faces gazing seaward pale with dread.
But still, with melancholy sway and swing
The bell gave forth its wailing funeral note,
And the night thickened, and the moon went down,
And the wind rose. Few boats had reached the town
But for the warning of that iron throat.
Henceforth, unquestioned, let the death-bell ring.
| Sonnets Round the Coast | |