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