A Ballad of Sark.
High beyond the granite portal arched across1
Like the gateway of some godlike giant’s hold2
Sweep and swell the billowy breasts of moor and moss3
East and westward, and the dell their slopes enfold4
Basks in purple, glows in green, exults in gold.5
Glens that know the dove and fells that hear the lark6
Fill with joy the rapturous island, as an ark7
Full of spicery wrought from herb and flower and tree.8
None would dream that grief even here may disembark9
On the wrathful woful marge of earth and sea.10
Rocks emblazoned like the mid shield’s royal boss11
Take the sun with all their blossom broad and bold.12
None would dream that all this moorland’s glow and gloss13
Could be dark as tombs that strike the spirit acold14
Even in eyes that opened here, and here behold15
Now no sun relume from hope’s belated spark16
Any comfort, nor may ears of mourners hark17
Though the ripe woods ring with golden-throated glee,18
While the soul lies shattered, like a stranded bark19
On the wrathful woful marge of earth and sea.20
Death and doom are they whose crested triumphs toss21
On the proud plumed waves whence mourning notes are tolled.22
Wail of perfect woe and moan for utter loss23
Raise the bride-song through the graveyard on the wold24
Where the bride-bed keeps the bridegroom fast in mould,25
Where the bride, with death for priest and doom for clerk,26
Hears for choir the throats of waves like wolves that bark,27
Sore anhungered, off the drear Eperquerie,28
Fain to spoil the strongholds of the strength of Sark29
On the wrathful woful marge of earth and sea.30
Prince of storm and tempest, lord whose ways are dark,31
Wind whose wings are spread for flight that none may mark,32
Lightly dies the joy that lives by grace of thee.33
Love through thee lies bleeding, hope lies cold and stark,34
On the wrathful woful marge of earth and sea.35