Like some great submarine it marks the bay,

This hulk of rock awash when tide is high,

Lurking below the surface, watchful, still,

Its stretching reefs far-spread to snare its prey.

But now, unlike that ship which steathily

Can rise to make an end, or dive at will,

Its conning-tower, a tiny castle grey,

For ever stands clear-cut against the sky,

A warning of a menace quick to kill

Amid a welter of tempestuous spray.

And as brave Hilary did mark this rock

As a safeguard to others off their course,

So do we well to show with all our force

The perils of this life, though seagulls mock.


Weekly Times     19.8.60