Charles Tennyson Turner (Чарльз Теннисон Тернер)

The Buoy-Bell

HOW like the leper, with his own sad cry
  Enforcing its own solitude, it tolls!
  That lonely bell set in the rushing shoals,
To warn us from the place of jeopardy!
O friend of man! sore vexed by Ocean’s power,
The changing tides wash o’er thee day by day;
  Thy trembling mouth is filled with bitter spray:
Yet still thou ringest on from hour to hour.
High is thy mission, though thy lot is wild:
  To be in danger’s realm a guardian sound;
    In seamen’s dreams a pleasant part to bear,
  And earn their blessing as the year goes round;
    And strike the keynote of each grateful prayer
Breathed in their distant homes by wife or child.

1. The Hydraulic Ram, or The Influence of Sound on Mood
2. Silkworms and Spiders
3. The Sonneteer to the Sea-Shell
4. The South-Foreland Electric Light
5. Great Britain through the Ice: Or, Premature Patriotism

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1652

Последние стихотворения

To English version