the Lighthouse

Fixt at the edge of sky and sea
a lonely lighthouse calls to me

If I could fly, or swim, that far,
I'd gladly reach it's twinkling star

And over rocky barren shore
Climb its twisting spiral core

And find my soul in solitude
Healed, whole again the broken rood


Far down below the blue sea crawls
Silk-wrinkled, rippled, beneath the calls
of stately-winged, cliff-nesting gulls
borne on the gusting windy sculls

Warmed by the sun these weathered walls,
Of rough-hewn, stone-built citadel--
Warm 'neath my hand as I ascend
up to the tiny, topmost den.


To pass a space in solitude
Of quiet days in dwelling rude
Where each night's labour'd task doth good
And do not make a fellow brood

Nor question his place in the sun
Nor wonder, if his work is done
For all things here seem as they should
Within the sphere of lighthouse crude

Yon there between the sky and sea
The twinkling lighthouse beckons me.