In Romney Marsh

As I went down to Dymchurch Wall,

I heard the South sing o'er the land

I saw the yellow sunlight fall

On knolls where Norman churches stand.

And ringing shrilly, taut and lithe,

Within the wind a core of sound,

The wire from Romney town to Hythe

Along its airy journey wound.

A veil of purple vapour flowed

And trailed its fringe along the Straits;

The upper air like sapphire glowed:

And roses filled Heaven's central gates.

Masts in the offing wagged their tops;

The swinging waves pealed on the shore;

The saffron beach, all diamond drops

And beads of surge, prolonged the roar.