THE ORCHARDS, THE SEA, AND THE GUNS
Of sounds which haunt me, these
Until I die
Shall live. First the trees,
Swaying and singing in the moonless night.
(The wind being wild)
And I
A wakeful child,
That lay and shivered with a strange delight.
Second—less sweet but thrilling as the first—
The midnight roar
Of waves upon the shore
Of Rossall dear:
The rhythmic surge and burst
(The gusty rain
Flung on the pane!)
I loved to hear.
And now another sound
Wilder than wind or sea,
When on the silent night
I hear resound
In mad delight
The guns....
They bark the whole night through;
And though I fear,
Knowing what work they do,
I somehow thrill to hear.