"Mirrored in shadowy windows draped / With ragged net or half-drawn blind / Bowsprits, masts"

For Poetry Monday, returning to the sea, or at least the sea-shore:


In Romney Marsh, John Davidson

As I went down to Dymchurch Wall,
    I heard the South sing o’er the land;
I saw the yellow sunlight fall
    On knolls where Norman churches stand.

And ringing shrilly, taut and lithe,
    Within the wind a core of sound,
The wire from Romney town to Hythe
    Alone its airy journey wound.

A veil of purple vapour flowed
    And trail’d its fringe along the Straits;
The upper air like sapphire glow’d;
    And roses fill’d Heaven’s central gates.

Masts in the offing wagg’d their tops;
    The swinging waves peal’d on the shore;
The saffron beach, all diamond drops
    And beads of surge, prolong’d the roar.

As I came up from Dymchurch Wall,
    I saw above the Downs’ low crest
The crimson brands of sunset fall,
    Flicker and fade from out the west.

Night sank: like flakes of silver fire
    The stars in one great shower came down;
Shrill blew the wind; and shrill the wire
    Rang out from Hythe to Romney town.

The darkly shining salt sea drops
    Streamed as the waves clashed on the shore;
The beach, with all its organ stops
    Pealing again, prolong’d the roar.


Davidson was one of the poets of the 1890s that T.S. Eliot read and learned from, especially such poems as "Thirty Bob a Week" and "In the Isle of Dogs" (echoes of which can be heard in "The Wasteland").

---L.

Subject quote from "In the Isle of Dogs," John Davidson.