Classic Poem

Ragged and tall stood the castle wall.
And the squires, at their sport, in the great South Court,
Lounged all day long from stable to hall
Laughingly, lazily, one and all.
The land about was barren and blue,
And swept by the wing of the wet sea-mew.
Seven fishermen's huts on a shelly shore:
Sand-heaps behind, and sand-banks before:
And a black champaign streaked white all through
To the great salt pool which the ocean drew,
Suck'd into itself, and disgorged it again
To stagnate and steam on the mineral plain:
Not a tree nor a bush in the circle of sight,
But a bare black thorn which the sea-winds had wither'd
With the drifting scum of the surf and blight,
And some patches of gray grass-land to the right,
Where the lean red-hided cattle were tether'd:
A reef of rock wedged the water in twain,
And a stout stone tower stood square to the main.