(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

Point Lonsdale

There’s rain in the distance,
scraping across the canvas of the sky
at the horizon where the sun is painting
its final glow on the evening that dies at last.
You see it from the darkening beach,
sand soft beneath your feet, till washed by tides
sweeping in succession that numbs the mind,
serried ranks of soldiers of a restless sea
sent to their deaths, sinking out of sight,
blurred like the memories of ages past
written in the rocks where oceans meet -
and you can hear their clash that is forever,
in the distance, above the sadder murmur of the tides,
mocked only by the cries of circling gulls,
raucous to your ear, that would gladly find
a gentler music with which to welcome night.

And all is grey now, all is lost,
all is blurred as time and tide seep through
the sandy foundations of your unknown life;
and from the west where the sun’s last fire has set
the rain sweeps down at last to the shore on which you stand alone.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 26

Comments (26)

This is my worlds best poem. I like it.
Between the water and a winding slope a rude and natural causeway is interposed and a narrow girdle of rough stones and crags is amazingly and brilliantly observed and the theme is beautifully expressed in this interesting and well drafted poem. From first to last every line clearly gives nice information. This is excellent poem! ...10
Self-reproach! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
LAST PART: all in detail, but every detail in nature he won´t forget as we can read those in this epic poem….W.W. was one of my fav.poets and till now he still is....Thank you for sharing his marvelous poem. My respect for W.W. is always greatest and his poetry I so admired all my life....
MIDDLE PART: Except a brilliant nature poet, a true member of the romantics, he is also an excellent keen observer of the life-path he was walking upon. The reader would inherit unconsciously his extra gift, he amused me so much, since he could notice every plant, trees, flower and even the sight of a countryman, the peasant of that towny view,
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