10. Sunrise over Douglas Bay

The dead grey waters heave and dwindle low

In the phantasmal veiling of the mist

That merges sea and sky within its shroud

And makes the world like Hela’s realm of woe,

A place where life and love cease to exist,

Save where a seagull, arrogant and proud,

With rhythmic feet upon the wall doth go,

Looking with glaring eye for any grist,

One with the white and grey miasmic cloud –

But wait! There seeps like maiden blush a glow,

Slowly diffusing, as a gathering flame

Lights up a bonfire smoke, and the white pall

Lifts and is lost as the sun’s burning ball

Pours from the easter rim its arrowed rays!