There was a time, but it has long since fled,
When this fair bay was known to passers-by
As a good anchorage, harbour of peace.
And here in season flamed the fuchsia red;
Forget-me-nots and cornflowers shamed the sky;
And gorse and cushag reigned in golden grace.
Lives like the first disciples fishers led,
Content their native industry to ply;
Here honest labour wore a lovely face.
But leisured life is with its people dead,
And now the old breakwater looks on more
Than humble cottages and simple things.
Now from the ground on stiff and noisy wings
The latest symbols of Man’s progress soar !
Weekly Times 29.1.60