Sulby River


Where Sulby River wreathes each silver coil

From the bare moorland to the northern sea,

A parable of life is told.   It springs

From the fond earth, whose sun and rain kissed soil

Has brought it forth in glad nativity,

Where in the morning the sweet linnet sings;

The guardian hills direct its course, and foil

Attempts to wander, and each bordering tree

Shades the young stream. Growing in strength it brings

Power to the mills, and shares in human toil.

Then, glens of childhood past, through broader fields

It flows more slowly but with purpose sure,

Receiving tributes, stained now and impure,

Until its essence to the ocean yields.


Weekly Times   26.4.62