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John Betjeman - Winter Seascape
Work rating: Medium

	The sea runs back against itself
	With scarcely time for breaking wave
	To cannonade a slatey shelf
	And thunder under in a cave.

	Before the next can fully burst
	The headwind, blowing harder still,
	Smooths it to what it was at first -
	A slowly rolling water-hill.

	Against the breeze the breakers haste,
	Against the tide their ridges run
	And all the sea`s a dappled waste
	Criss-crossing underneath the sun.

	Far down the beach the ripples drag
	Blown backward, rearing from the shore,
	And wailing gull and shrieking shag
	Alone can pierce the ocean roar.

	Unheard, a mongrel hound gives tongue,
	Unheard are shouts of little boys;
	What chance has any inland lung
	Against this multi-water noise?

	Here where the cliffs alone prevail
	I stand exultant, neutral, free,
	And from the cushion of the gale
	Behold a huge consoling sea.
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