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Sonnets Round the Coast

by H. D. Rawnsley
Rawnsley, H. D. (1851-1920)
  
[dedication]

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[section]
expand sectionI. 
BOOK I. SONNETS OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT AND SOUTH COAST.
expand sectionII. 
BOOK II. SONNETS OF THE CORNISH COASTS.
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BOOK III. SONNETS OF THE BRISTOL CHANNEL.
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BOOK IV. SONNETS OF THE WELSH COAST.
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BOOK V. SONNETS OF THE LANCASHIRE AND CUMBERLAND COASTS.
 I. 
I. EAST AND WEST.
 II. 
II. THE TOWER ON THE HOAD, ULVERSTON.
 III. 
III. A LAUNCH FROM THE FURNESS DOCKS.
 IV. 
IV. BLACK COMBE.
 V. 
V. ESKMEALS.
 VI. 
VI. AT KING HENRY'S CHAPEL, MUNCASTER.
 VII. 
VII. A QUIET AUTUMN DAY,
 VIII. 
VIII. AT MUNCASTER,
 IX. 
IX. THE DEATH OF OLAF THE DANE—
 X. 
X. HOME FROM THE EAST.
 XI. 
XI. THE LIGHT-SHIP, SEEN FROM SEASCALE.
 XII. 
XII. THE DRUID STONE NEAR MILLBECK, SEASCALE.
 XIII. 
XIII. BRAVE SAILING.
 XIV. 
XIV. AT SEASCALE.
 XV. 
XV. THE PREACHER'S SEASIDE LESSON.
 XVI. 
XVI. THE OLD WRECK AT SEASCALE.
 XVII. 
XVII. THE IRISH LAND LEAGUE.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. ROCK RUINS AT SEASCALE.
 XIX. 
XIX. THE GOSFORTH CROSS.
 XX. 
XX. SEASCALE MEMORIES.
 XXI. 
XXI. THE PEACE OF UNDERSTANDING.
 XXII. 
XXII. ARCHBISHOP GRINDAL,
 XXIII. 
XXIII. TOMB OF THOMAS DE COTTINGHAM,
 XXIV. 
XXIV. BEOWULF'S STONE, SAINT BEES.
 XXV. 
XXV. THE SNOW MIRACLE,
 XXVI. 
XXVI. THE FORESTER'S. TOMB, SAINT BEES.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. SAINT BEES.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. SEA-COTE, SAINT BEES.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. SEA-GULLS AT SAINT BEES.
 XXX. 
XXX. THE LARK ON TOMLINE HEAD.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. A DOUBTFUL MAY.
 XII. 
XII. MUSIC OF TWO WORLDS, SAINT BEES HEAD.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. THE IMPERISHABLE GOSPEL.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. THE GLADNESS OF THE SEA.
expand sectionVI. 
BOOK VI. SONNETS OF THE NORTH-EAST COAST.
expand sectionVII. 
BOOK VII.
expand sectionVIII. 
BOOK VIII. SONNETS OF THE LINCOLNSHIRE COAST.

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42

XXII. FOAM-FRINGE AT GURNARD'S HEAD.

Treryn, the castled, stands towards the tide,
Grey-lichened, gold-incrusted, green with moss,
And all day long, the waves about her toss
White arms of foam, as jealous of her pride,
But ever down the darkened ledges slide
The baffled waters. Though no more the cross
Shines o'er the flaming torch to save from loss,
Her mystic strength in storm has never died.
How like a soul that in the tides of sin
Beats back the waves of passion, and secure
Makes of those tides new power for innocence,
Does this victorious headland seem to win
From out the raging waves a silver fence,
Wreathed of white foam-bells, peaceable and pure.
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