 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
Flamborough Lighthouse
FROM BRIDLINGTON BAY
As on the beach, moist with an ebbing tide,Pensive I wandered at the close of day,
I saw a crimson beacon, miles away,
Beam suddenly above the waters wide.
Then chancing to look downwards, I espied,
Burning across the sands, a level ray,
Which, moving as I moved, before me lay,
And the low shore with a red glory dyed.
Thus, o'er the rolling ages, lifted high,
The beacon of the Cross afar I see,
And through the misty centuries strain my eye;
But bright reflections from that Crimson Tree
Across the sands of Time stretch sweetly nigh,
Right to my feet, as if for none but me!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |