Lighthouse » 5Sauce

00.

{ the line used in the blurb will be written like this. }

Though three men dwell on Flannan Isle, 

To keep the lamp alight, 

As we steer'd under the lee, we caught

No glimmer through the night.

A passing ship at dawn had brought

The news; and quickly we set sail, 

To find out what strange thing might ail 

The keepers of the deep sea-light. 

The winter day broke blue and bright 

With glancing sun and glancing spray, 

As o'er the swell our boat made way, 

As gallant as a gull in flight. 

But, as we near'd the lonely Isle;

And look'd up at the naked height;

And saw the lighthouse towering white, 

With blinded lantern, that all night, 

Had never shot a spark, 

Of comfort through the dark, 

So ghastly in the cold sunlight, 

It seem'd, that we were struck the while 

With wonder all too dread for words. 

And, as into the tiny creek, 

We stole beneath the hanging crag, 

We saw three queer, black ugly birds--

Too big, by far, in my belief, 

For guillemot or shag--

Like seamen sitting bolt upright, 

Upon a half-tide reef: 

But as we near'd, they plunged from sight, 

Without a sound or spurt of white. 

And still too mazed to speak, 

We landed; and made fast the boat, 

And climb'd the track in single file, 

Each wishing he was safe afloat, 

On any sea, however far,

So it be far from Flannan Isle: 

And still we seemed to climb, and climb, 

As though we'd lost all count of time, 

And so must climb for evermore. 

Yet all too soon, we reached the door-- 

The black, sun blister'd lighthouse door, 

That gaped for us ajar. 

As, on the threshold, for a spell,

We paused, we seem'd to breathe the smell, 

Of limewash and of tar, 

Familiar as our daily breath, 

As though 'twere some strange scent of death: 

And so, yet wondering side-by-side, 

We stood a moment, still tongue-tied: 

And each with black foreboding eyed, 

The door, ere we should fling it wide, 

To leave the sunlight for the gloom: 

Till, plucking the courage up at last, 

Hard on each others heels we pass'd

Into the living-room. 

Yet, as we crowded through the door,

We only saw a table, spread

For dinner, meat and cheese and bread;

But all untouch'd; and no one there:

As though, when they sat down to eat,

Ere they could even taste,

Alarm had come; and they in haste

Had risen and left the bread and meat:

For on the table-head a chair

Lay tumbled on the floor.

We listen'd; but we only heard

The feeble cheeping of a bird

That starved upon its perch:

And, listening still, without a word,

We set about our hopeless search.

We hunted high, we hunted low, 

And soon ransack'd the empty house;

Then o'er the Island, to and fro, 

We ranged, to listen and to look, 

In every cranny, cleft or nook, 

That may have hid a bird or mouse: 

But, though we searched from shore to shore,

We found no sign in any place: 

And soon again stood face to face

Before the gaping door: 

And stole into the room once more, 

As frighten'd children steal. 

Aye: though we hunted high and low, 

And hunted everywhere,

Of the three men's fate we found no trace,

Of any kind in any place,

But a door ajar, and an untouch'd meal, 

And an overtoppled chair. 

And as we listen'd in the gloom,

Of that forsaken living-room--

O chill clutch on our breath--

We thought how ill-chance came to all. 

Who kept the Flannan Light:

And how the rock had been the death

Of many a likely lad:

How six had come to a sudden end

And three had gone stark mad:

And one whom we'd all known as friend, 

Had leapt from the lantern one still night, 

And fallen dead by the lighthouse wall. 

And long we thought,

On the three we sought, 

And of what might yet befall. 

Like curs a glance has brought to heel,

We listen'd, flinching there: 

And look'd, and look'd, on the untouch'd meal

And the overtoppled chair. 

We seem'd to stand for an endless while,

Though still no word was said,

Three men alive on Flannan Isle, 

Who thought on three men dead.