THE LIGHTHOUSE

One half watch-tower and one half prison cell,

on sandy strand apart it probes the skies

the somber lighthouse; of your fears and sighs

a confidant trustworthy, safe to tell.

In solitude unhurt the soul would dream,

within a tower of iron and of stone,

captive to cosmic power that holds the throne,

the waves’ unrest, the play of glint and gleam.

Your sorrows trite by ocean green unfurled

under the softly fronded weeds, past care

for earth, and space, and time; you will forbear

when the bejewelled night bespans the world.