A Midsummer Holiday:- II. A Haven

East and north a waste of waters, south and west     Lonelier lands than dreams in sleep would feign to be,     When the soul goes forth on travel, and is prest     Round and compassed in with clouds that flash and flee     Dells without a streamlet, downs without a tree,     Cirques of hollow cliff that crumble, give their guest     Little hope, till hard at hand he pause, to see     Where the small town smiles, a warm still sea-side nest.     Many a lone long mile, by many a headlands crest,     Down by many a garden dear to bird and bee,     Up by many a sea-downs bare and breezy breast,     Winds the sandy strait of road where flowers run free.     Here along the deep steep lanes by field and lea     Knights have carolled, pilgrims chanted, on their quest,     Haply, ere a roof rose toward the bleak strands lee,     Where the small town smiles, a warm still sea-side nest.     Are the wild lands cursed perchance of time, or blest,     Sad with fear or glad with comfort of the sea?     Are the ruinous towers of churches fallen on rest     Watched of wanderers woful now, glad once as we,     When the night has all mens eyes and hearts in fee,     When the soul bows down dethroned and dispossest?     Yet must peace keep guard, by days and nights decree,     Where the small town smiles, a warm still sea-side nest.     Friend, the lonely land is bright for you and me     All its wild ways through: but this methinks is best,     Here to watch how kindly time and change agree     Where the small town smiles, a warm still sea-side nest.