Sonnets Round the Coast by H. D. Rawnsley |
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 | Sonnets Round the Coast |  |
89
XIII. BRAVE SAILING.
As When the sailor by the Cumbrian strand,Worn by the equinox, looks out and sees,
Betwixt Black Combe and russet-red Saint Bees,
The restful harvest yellow on the land,
And almost would his keel had smote the sand
So, by the wall of Wastdale's purple screes,
His life might share the ploughman's life of ease—
Yet hoises sail, nor bates of heart nor hand;
I too, when tossing in the weary strife,
The storm of party, hurricane of creed,
Look forth for any tempting haven near,
And almost wish, by wreck from service freed,
A simple shepherd's comfortable life—
But still out seaward to the wind I steer.
| Sonnets Round the Coast | |