University of Virginia Library


179

XVII. SAINT HILDA'S LIGHTS.

When over Lythe the sun has just gone down,
And opal mist has filled the hollow way
Whereby the boats steal out into the bay,
And audibly the sea sobs to the town,
In that old church, which is the harbour's crown,
Three windows brighten wondrously. Men say
It is Saint Hilda, come with saint's array—
Slid out of Heaven to be a moment known.
The fisher sees the wonder on the hill,—
He takes the glow to bode a fairer wind.
The babe leaps up in bed to watch the gleam,
And a bright presence haunts his infant dream.
Each sunset proves it is Saint Hilda's will
To keep the light of other days in mind.