The cliffs of Jurby stand out in the sun,
Clear and erect up-rising from the shore
Like walls of a beleaguered city. Gun
And catapult against them make no roar,
Nor armoured troops encamp their gates before,
Only the massed battalions of the sea
That snatch a mouthful and come back for more,
Waging a vendetta constantly.
Pastures and soil within man’s memory
Slipped have for aye beneath the smiling waves ;
And one-time headlands in their majesty
Bowed have to fate with all their stones and graves.
But stands the church with farseen gleaming tower,
Symbolic of a yet more awful Power !
Mona’s Herald 4.4.61