Sonnets Round the Coast | ||
177
XV. ON THE HARBOUR PIER, WHITBY.
Sometimes there pass us by the steamers proud,Like spouting whales their hulls at distance seem,
So fierce, behind, the white churned waters gleam;
Anon they wrap themselves as in a shroud
Of their own weaving, till the plumy cloud
Hither and thither wafted, smoke and steam—
Dies out, or lingers after far abeam,
Like birds that on their close-winged journey crowd.
But 'mid the fisher fleet that clustering lay,
With here and there a wing spread forth to dry,
Resting from toil and taking strength for more,
Or waiting for the harbour's open door,
Our hearts were anchored; for the poor that stay
Are better than the great that pass us by.
Sonnets Round the Coast | ||