Sonnets Round the Coast by H. D. Rawnsley |
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FALMOUTH. |
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 | Sonnets Round the Coast |  |
23
III. FALMOUTH.
Harbour of ample bosom, open doorFor friends and strangers storm-tost in the bay,
Peace has not yet come down on earth to stay,
And still 'neath hate's dark night the foe may pour
In thro' thy gates, his floating thunder roar
Scorn to Pendennis, to the town dismay;
Our happy England whole of heart to-day,
To-morrow may be England wounded sore.
Oh! for the heart of Raleigh, when, returned,
He felt our western air blow crisp and cool
From off the golden slopes of wheat that burned
Against his topmost yards in Smithwic Pool—
Oh! for his voice to put our pride to school,
And bid us guard the land for which he yearned!
| Sonnets Round the Coast | |