Follow by Email

Monday, 26 December 2016

Boxing Day, Portland Bill, Dorset



This year, we stayed in Dorset






From Thomas Hardy, The Souls of the Slain


The thick lids of Night closed upon me
Alone at the Bill
Of the Isle by the Race -
Many-caverned, bald, wrinkled of face -
And with darkness and silence the spirit was on me
To brood and be still.


No wind fanned the flats of the ocean,
Or promontory sides,
Or the ooze by the strand,
Or the bent-bearded slope of the land,
Whose base took its rest amid everlong motion
Of criss-crossing tides.

*****

No comments:

Post a Comment