THE ORCHARDS, THE SEA, AND THE GUNS

Of sounds which haunt me, these Until I die Shall live. First the trees, Swaying and singing in the moonless night. (The wind being wild) And I A wakeful child, That lay and shivered with a strange delight. Second—less sweet but thrilling as the first— The midnight roar Of waves upon the shore Of Rossall dear: The rhythmic surge and burst (The gusty rain Flung on the pane!) I loved to hear. And now another sound Wilder than wind or sea, When on the silent night I hear resound In mad delight The guns.... They bark the whole night through; And though I fear, Knowing what work they do, I somehow thrill to hear.