Poetry Analysis

At Land’s EndAt Land's End

Original Poetry

At Land’s End

The name of this place doesn’t really do it justice: steep cliffs and black rocks for sure; but beyond? The Celtic Sea, Longships Lighthouse and vast billowy teal silk cloak of the Atlantic.

The lighthouse was first lit in 1875; before then wreckers would pick over the carcasses of vessels that had foundered; and smuggler’s tunnels were arteries of furtive lives.

One of the hottest and most dazzley days of the year; down there each of a million tiny waves is flecked with silver and pale gold leaf. Sea surface tilts towards outcrops: danger’s ever near.

As the currents spin and foam round giant dragon’s teeth, I feel our tinyness and brevity, the planet’s power and longevity. A dolphin arches quickly out and into the surf.

If all you can ever do in life is take the plunge, then the young man a few metres away, fully understands that mantra, as he goes down on one knee and makes his proposal of marriage.

I’ve never seen this being done before, in real life: the response is as quick as Cupid’s aim, and overwhelming as an ocean wave; “Of course I will!” exclaims his joyous, blonde, future wife.

B.H. Smyth, London, 17.8.2026

Translation

At Land’s End

The name of this place doesn’t really do it justice: there are steep cliffs and black rocks, but what lies beyond? The Celtic Sea, Longships Lighthouse, and a vast, billowy, teal silk cloak of the Atlantic.

The lighthouse was first lit in 1875; before that, wreckers would search through the remains of ships that had sunk; and smuggler’s tunnels were secret paths of hidden lives.

One of the hottest and most dazzling days of the year; down there, each of a million tiny waves is sprinkled with silver and pale gold leaf. The sea surface tilts towards outcrops: danger is always near.

As the currents spin and foam around giant dragon’s teeth, I feel our smallness and shortness of life, the planet’s power and long-lasting nature. A dolphin quickly arches out and into the surf.