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