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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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96

XX. SEASCALE MEMORIES.

As if the salt-sea-blood that years ago
Won the fore-elder Vikings Cumberland,
Leapt in their veins, the glad, tumultuous band
Sped to the shore, and gleaming, to and fro
The bathers hurried; some, more grave, would know
What treasures lay upon the generous sand,
And here and there the lover with his hand
Would trace a name the waves should hide at flow.
Ah, happy feet; this fresh, unwrinkled shore
Forgives all mischief ye shall make in play,
And though to-morrow's sun shall find no trace
Of all your frolic—tides must rise apace,
Sorrow and pain—yet to the bitterest core
Of life's drear sands, shall sink the memory of to-day.
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