Here the land narrows <br />and curves <br />to a tenuous line <br />of sand and <br />sparse marram grass <br />scarce noticed in the <br />misty distances <br />of estuary and open sea <br />save for those tall <br />proud sentinels, <br />the lighthouses, whose lights <br />no longer shine <br />across the waves <br />to light the night <br />for passing ships; <br />yet still they stand, <br />as seamarks now, <br />above the windswept dunes <br />of lonesome, <br />sea-girt, almost-island <br />Spurn.<br /><br />Pete Crowther<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spurn-point/
