Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, Baron, 1809-1892 -- Friends and associates
This strip of land is not marsh in the ordinary sense of the word, but a
belt of the richest grass land, all level and with no visible fences, each
field being surrounded by a broad dyke or ditch with deep water, hidden in
summer by the tall feathery plumes of the "whispering reeds." Across this
belt the seawind sweeps for ever. The Poet may allude to this when, in his
early poem, "Sir Galahad," he writes:
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields;
and "the hard grey weather" sung by Kingsley breeds a race of hardy
gray-eyed men with long noses, the manifest descendants of the Danes who
peopled all that coast, and gave names to most of the villages there,
nine-tenths of which end in "by."
This rich pasture-land runs right up to the sand-dunes,--Nature's own
fortification made by the winds and waves which is just outside the Dutch
and Roman embankments, and serves better than all the works of man to keep
out the waters of the North Sea from the low-lying levels of the _Marsh_
and _Fen_.
The lines in the "Lotos-Eaters":
They sat them down upon the yellow sand
Between the sun and moon upon the shore,
describes what the Poet might at any time of full moon have seen from that
"sand-built ridge" with the red sun setting over the wide marsh, and the
full moon rising out of the eastern sea; and "The wide winged sunset of
the misty marsh" recalls one of the most noticeable features of that
particular locality, where, across the limitless windy plain, the sun
would set in regal splendour; and when "cold winds woke the gray-eyed
morn" his rising over the sea would be equally magnificent in colour.
Having crossed the "Marsh" by a raised road with deep wide dykes on either
side, and no vestige of hedge or tree in sight, except where a row of
black poplars or aspens form a screen from the searching wind round a
group of the plainest of farm buildings, red brick with roofing of black
glazed pan-tiles, you come to the once tiny village of Mablethorpe,
sheltering right under the sea-bank, the wind-blown sands of which are
held together by the penetrating roots of the tussocks of long, coarse,
sharp-edged grass, and the prickly bushes of sea buckthorn, gray-leaved
and orange-berried.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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